i, 

-6 


ACh' 
I4O  r 
S.CMS 


His  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 


BY 

MINNIE  WILLIS  BAINES, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  SILENT  I,AND." 


CINCINNATI : 
CRANSTON  &  STO\VE 

NEW  YORK : 
HUNT  &  EATON. 

1891. 


Copyrifrht 

BY  CRANSTON  &  STOWE. 
1881. 


3\EAR  READER,— I  have  not  undertaken 

^  in  this  book  a  complete  refutation  of  the 
doctrine  known  as  "Christian  Science," 
but  have  endeavored  to  show  how,  through 
its  own  innumerable  inconsistencies,  it  refutes 
itself;  also  to  prove,  by  its  avowed  articles  of 
faith,  the  impossibility  of  being,  at  one  and 
the  same  time,  a  logical  Christian  Scientist 
and  a  Bible  Christian. 

The  principal  aim  of  my  argument  is  to 
convince  thoughtless  Christians,  who  have  em- 
braced this  "science"  in  the  belief  that  its 
teachings  lead  to  a  higher  Christian  life,  that, 
on  the  contrary,  they  tend  toward  the  rejec- 
tion of  Christ  and  the  Holy  Scriptures,  toward 
the  destruction  of  man's  belief  in  the  resur- 
rection of  the  individual  from  the  dead,  and 
his  eternal  existence  as  a  glorified  spirit  in 
the  companionship  of  Christ  and  his  risen 
saints.  M.  W.  B. 

SPRINGFIELD,  o.,  1891.  3 

2061743 


CHAPTER  I. 

••»  "  PAGE. 

DOCTOR  SARAH  KATHERINB  SPENCER,  CHRISTIAN 

SCIENTIST, 7 

CHAPTER  IL 
FRANCIS  BARTLETT,  ATTORNEY  AND  COUNSELOR,  . .     20 

CHAPTER  HL 
MOODS/.  .  .  • 27 

CHAPTER  IV. 
SUPPOSED  RIVALS, 38 

CHAPTER  V. 
OFF  FOR  A  DAY'S  FISHING,  ............     45 

CHAPTER  VL 
A  DISCUSSION  IN  THE  BOAT ....,",     55 

CHAPTER  VH. 
THE  EPPERTS  AND  THEIR  SICK  CHILD, 77 

CHAPTER  VIIL 
CHRISTIAN  SCIENCE • 94 

5 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

PAGE. 

AUNT  HARRIET  AND  SADIE, no 

CHAPTER  X. 
AN  EPISODE  AT  MRS.  GLOVER'S, 123 

CHAPTER  XL 
SECOND  VISIT  TO  THE  EPPERTS, 138 

CHAPTER  XII. 
ANOTHER  CHRISTIAN  SCIENTIST, 151 

CHAPTER  XIIL 
SADIE  RENOUNCES  CHRISTIAN  SCIENCE, 172 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Aw,  's  WELI/  THAT  ENDS  WEU,, 184 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 


I- 


FRANCIS  BARTLETT,  ESQ.,  had  just 

returned,  somewhat  unexpectedly  as  to 
the  exact  train,  from  a  six  months'  stay  in 
the  "  far  West."  This  stay  had  not  been 
altogether  a  trip  for  sight-seeing  purposes  and 
the  acquisition  of  topographical  knowledge, 
nor  yet  for  the  proving  of  a  land  claim  which 
was  in  dispute ;  but  it  was  a  composite  affair 
which  blended  the  trio  of  designs,  and  had 
consumed  more  time  than  he  had  intended  to 
dispose  of  in  this  manner. 

He  had  arrived  on  an  evening  train,  about 
an  hour  too  late  for  tea  at  his  mother's  hos- 
pitable table ;  but  after  that  delighted  lady 
had  embraced  him  again  and  again,  and  cried 
over  him  as  she  did  n't  do  when  he  went 
away  (women  are  strange  creatures),  she  re- 
membered that  he  must  be  hungry,  and  gave 
elaborate  orders  to  the  girl  for  an  appetizing 
supper  to  be  speedily  brought  in. 

Mr.  Bartlett  did  ample  justice  to  the  meal. 

7 


8  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

His  digestion  was  good,  and  for  the  last  few 
weeks  lie  had  been  roughing  it  in  a  Rocky 
Mountain  iron  camp,  where  the  chef  cPceuvre 
of  the  chef  was  saleratus  biscuit,  sometimes 
supplemented  by  side-meat. 

As  he  drained  his  tea-cup  for  the  second 
time,  and  finished  the  last  crumb  of  a  gen- 
erous section  of  rich  cake,  he  exclaimed,  with 
real  fervor: 

"I'm  glad  to  be  back,  mother.  Nobody 
ever  cooks  like  a  fellow's  own  mother  and  the 
servants  she  trains." 

"  I  made  that  cake  myself,  Frank.  Nora  's 
rather  slow  about  learning  to  make  good 
cake,"  said  Mrs.  Bartlett,  pleased  with  the 
praise  of  her  idolized  son. 

"Everything  going  on  as  usual  at  home? 
How  's  Sadie  ?  Where  is  she  ?" 

Mrs.  Bartlett  pursed  up  her  lips,  and  mys- 
teriously answered : 

"There  isn't  any  Sadie.      Sadie's  gone." 

"Gone?" 

Francis  Bartlett  looked  blankly  at  his 
mother,  and  his  face  seemed  to  have  turned  a 
shade  paler  as  he  looked. 

She  nodded,  and  her  expression  was  full 
of  the  importance  of  some  knowledge  which 
she  was  withholding  from  him. 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  9 

"  Pldase  do  n't  be  mysterious,  mother ;  I 
never  did  like  mystery.  Where  has  she  gone  ? 
She  certainly  is  n't  dead,  or  you  would  have 
let  me  know." 

"No,  not  dead.  Sadie  has  vanished  into 
the  past.  There  is  a  young  lady  residing 
here  now,  known  to  the  town  as  Dr.  Sarah 
Katherine  Spencer.  She  is  n't  in,  just  now ; 
she  's  lecturing  over  at  the  G.  A.  R.  Hall,  this 
evening,  on  Theosophy.  Her  last  lecture  was 
on  Occultism." 

Mrs.  Bartlett,  having  fired  this  unexpected 
shot,  sat  back,  and  looked  at  her  son  tri- 
umphantly. 

"Theosophy!     Sadie!!" 

These  were  the  only  words  he  could  utter, 
in  his  astonished  bewilderment. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Bartlett,  demurely,  "and 
her  next  is  on  Esoteric  Buddhism." 

Mr.  Bartlett  leaned  back,  and  burst  into  a 
loud,  contemptuous  laugh. 

"  Sadie !"  ejaculated  he.  "  Why,  she  knows 
about  as  much  on  those  subjects  as  our  Mal- 
tese kitten." 

"You  may  think  that,  privately,  but  it 
would  take  nerve  on  your  part  to  tell  her  so. 
You  've  been  gone  six  months,  Francis.  Dur- 
ing three  of  those  months,  Sarah  Katherine 


10  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

attended  lectures  and  studied  books.  Now 
she  is  a  full-fledged  Christian  Scientist  and 
Mental  Healer,  instructing  '  the  heathen  which 
sit  in  darkness.' " 

"  Christian  Scientist !  Why,  I  did  n't  know 
Sadie  had  ever  been  converted !  When  did  it 
happen?" 

"Well,  as  to  that,  she  doesn't  profess  that 
she  ever  has  been.  She  says  a  great  many — 
most,  indeed — of  the  healers  are  Christians, 
but  others  are  not ;  and  that  it  is  n't  at  all 
necessary." 

"Well,  it  strikes  me,"  answered  he,  a  little 
severely,  "that  Miss  Sadie  is  putting  profane 
hands  on  a  holy  ark." 

"Um-m,"  commented  Mrs.  Bartlett,  in  a 
non-committal  way,  scenting,  with  delight, 
from  afar  off,  the  inevitable  coming  battle  be- 
tween her  son  Francis  and  Dr.  Sarah  Kath- 
erine  Spencer. 

"You  called  her ( doctor,' "  said  he,  presently ; 
"did  you  mean  that  she  actually  attempts  to 
cure  sick  people?" 

"Nothing  less  than  that." 

They  had  pushed  back  their  chairs  from 
the  table,  and  Nora  had  come  in  to  clear  away 
the  dishes  and  remove  the  cloth.  She  was 
proceeding  with  her  duties,  as  Mr.  Bart- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  II 

lett  remarked :  "  She  does  n't  succeed,  of 
course  ?" 

"Ask  Nora,"  replied  his  mother. 

Thus  adjured,  he  turned  his  attention  to 
the  pretty  little  servant,  who  blushed  rosy-red 
under  his  glance. 

"Well,  Nora,"  said  he,  "have  you  been 
sick,  and  has  Miss  Spencer  doctored  you  and 
cured  you?" 

"Indeed,  sir,  and  she  did,  then,"  stam- 
mered she. 

"What  was  the  matter?  Anything 
serious?" 

"Indeed,  sir,  my  head  did  ache  me  awful 
one  day,  and  I  asked  her  could  she  give  me 
something  that  would  make  it  quit ;  then  she 
came,  and  sat  down  in  the  kitchen  by  the 
window,  and  began  to  talk  to  me  that  pleas- 
ant about  everything  else,  that  I  'most  forgot 
about  it ;  only  once  in  awhile  it  would  be  that 
bad  I  could  n't  help  telling  her  about  it  again, 
and  asking  her  to  cure  it?" 

"And  what  did  she  say,  Nora?" 

"Well,  sir,  she  sat  up  there  in  that  splint- 
bottomed  rocking-chair,  in  her  white  sailor- 
blouse  and  blue  skirt,  and  just  smiled  at  me. 
Then  she  said,  solemn  like:  'Nora  Brown, 
you  're  not  sick — you  are  not  sick !'  " 


I  a  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"How  did  that,  seem  to  make  you  feel? — 
better?" 

Nora  laughed. 

"It  made  me  kinder  mad  at  first.  I  says 
to  her  that  I  thought  I  oughter  know  whether 
I  was  sick  or  not,  and  that  my-  mother  used 
to  have  headaches  like  this  ;  but  if  she  did  n't 
want  to  cure  me,  she  need  n't  mind  it."  - 

"And  what  did  she  say  to  that?" 

"  Why,  sir,  she  stopped  smiling  right  away, 
and  she  said,  sorter  serious :  '  I  know  you  think 
you  're  sick,  Nora,  but  you  must  not  think  so 
any  longer ;  for  sickness  is  sin,  and — '  "  Here 
Nora  broke  off  suddenly,  saying:  "You  must 
excuse  me,  Mr.  Francis,  but  I  can  not  remem- 
ber all  her  big  words.  I  know  she  said  some- 
thing about  its  being  a  'state  of  inharmony,' 
and—" 

"She  told  you  there  was  'only  a  seeming 
law  of  heredity  and  contagion  in  the  natural 
soul,'  did  n't  she  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Bartlett. 

"Yes,  ma'am.  And  she  said  something 
about  seeming  sickness  being  a  punishment 
for  either  individual  or  universal  sin,  and  that 
it  was  wicked  to  be  sick.  That  of  course  I 
was  not  sick,  but  I  must  say  to  myself  that  I 
was  well ;  because  ( all  that  is  not  of  love  is 
of  self.' " 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  13 

"What  did  she  mean  by  that,  Nora?"  asked 
Mr.  Francis. 

"  I  did  n't  quite  sense  it,"  replied  the  girl ; 
"but  she  said,  after  a  bit:  'It  is  only  seeming. 
You  must  say,  I  am  well !  and  then,  presently, 
your  head  will  not  ache.'  " 

"Well,  did  it  work,  Nora?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  sir.  I  kept  saying  it  all  that 
day,  and  the  next  day,  in  the  afternoon,  my 
head-ache  was  all  gone." 

"A  remarkable  cure,"  said  Mr.  Francis;  and 
as  Nora,  questioned  no  further,  carried  out  the 
tray  containing  the  debris  of  the  meal,  the 
young  man  turned  to  his  mother,  and  said: 

"Why  didn't  you  write  to  me  about  this?" 

"You  know  why,  Frank.  Sadie  is  self- 
willed,  and  of  age.  It  would  have  done  no 
good,  and  you  might  have  written  her  some- 
thing she  would  have  resented,  and  there 
would  have  been  a  breach  between  you,  which 
would  have  been  unnecessary." 

"Sly,  cunning,  maneuvering  mamma!"  said 
he,  playfully.  "  I  think  you  might  as  well 
'name  his  name,  and  let  half  his  face  be  seen 
through  the  lion's  neck,  and  tell  them  plainly, 
he  is  Snug,  the  joiner.'  •" 

"Whatever  do  you  mean,  Francis?" 

"Quoting  a  little  Shakespeare,"  answered 


14  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

he,  lightly.  Then,  taking  out  his  watch,  he 
asked:  "At  what  time  does  the  doctor's  show 
come  to  a  close?" 

UO,  there's  an  hour  of  it  yet,"  answered 
his  mother. 

"I  think  I'll  stroll  around  to  the  G.  A.  R., 
and  see  how  Dr.  Spencer  looks  on  the  plat- 
form." 

After  the  door  had  closed  behind  him,  he 
heaved  a  little  sigh,  and  soliloquized: 

"Yes;  mother  would  like  to  keep  cousin 
Sadie's  fortune  in  the  family.  As  for  me,  I 
do  n't  care  for  the  money,  but — " 

With  the  click  of  the  gate  the  soliloquy 
came  to  an  end. 

The  G.  A.  R.  Hall  was  crowded  with  a 
"large  and  enthusiastic"  audience — in  fact, 
Francis  Bartlett  was  obliged  to  stand  in  an 
open  doorway,  with  his  neighbor's  elbow  in 
uncomfortable  proximity  to  his  ribs. 

The  young  lecturer  stood  upon  a  slightly 
raised  platform  at  the  further  end  of  the  room. 
She  was  tall  and  very  slight,  with  a  great  deal 
of  blonde  hair,  put  up  in  a  loose  knot  at  the 
back  of  her  head,  and  some  few  short  locks  curl- 
ing about  her  temples  and  small,  delicate  ears. 
She  wore  a  straight,  black  gown,  high  in  the 
neck,  with  a  narrow  rim  of  white  picot-edged 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  15 

ribbon  about  her  throat.  The  sleeves,  which 
reached  her  elbows,  were  met  by  the  long, 
wrinkled  wrists  of  soft  tan  gloves.  She  held 
her  manuscript  in  her  hand,  but  glanced  away 
from  it  now  and  then,  as  she  uttered  some 
well-rounded  sentence  containing  a  favorite 
sentiment. 

Francis  Bartlett  looked  at  her  for  a  little 
time,  admiring  her  graceful  pose,  and  the  dig- 
nified simplicity  of  her  costume,  before  he  be- 
gan to  listen  to  what  she  was  saying. 

The  first  period  which,  to  make  use  of 
Nora's  vernacular,  he  "sensed,"  was  to  this 
effect : 

"St.  Paul  told  the  Romans  that  God's  wrath 
'was  (manifest  against  ungodliness  and  un- 
righteousness in  men,  because  that  which  may 
be  known  of  God  is  manifest  in  them;  for  God 
manifested  it  unto  them.  For  the  invisible 
things  of  him  since  the  creation  of  the  world 
are  clearly  seen,  being  perceived  through  the 
things  that  are  made,  even  his  everlasting 
power  and  divinity ;  that  they  may  be  without 
excuse.' 

"He  spoke,  you  will  perceive,  of  manifes- 
tations and  revelations  made  directly  to  the 
human  consciousness  itself — that  inward  il- 
lumination concerning  his  will  and  purpose 


16  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

to  which  we  of  to-day,  in  a  broader,  higher, 
and  superior  sense,  lay  claim. 

"  Theosophy,  wisdom  in  the  things  of  God, 
may  not  be  clearly  demonstrable  as  a  science, 
but,  like  the  miracles  of  Jesus,  it  is  above  all 
classified  knowledge,  and  to  be  believed  in  for 
'the  very  works'  sake;'  both  these  'works' 
having  for  their  aim  'the  healing  of  the  na- 
tions.' 

"It  differs  from  revealed  religion,  inasmuch 
as  the  former  comes  through  inward  inspira- 
tion, by  means  of  which  the  mind  is  given  a 
direct  insight  into  the  will  and  pleasure  of  the 
great  and  otherwise  unfathomable  intelligence 
which  moves  the  universe. 

"Emerson  said:  'When  the  Master  of  the 
universe  has  points  to  carry  in  his  government, 
he  impresses  his  will  in  the  structure  of  minds.' 
Granting  this,  as  we  claim  we  may,  you  may 
readily  see  how  in  past  ages  this  illuminating 
power  struggled  to  pierce  the  darkness  of  igno- 
rance, prejudice,  and  superstition  existing  in 
the  hearts  and  beliefs  of  mankind ;  succeed- 
ing, in  a  sufficient  degree,  even  among  those 
who  did  not  worship  the  one  God,  to  stand  as 
a  prophecy  of  its  more  complete  and  final  vic- 
tory in  our  own  and  future  generations;  'God 
having  provided  some  better  thing  concerning 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  17 

us,  that,  apart  from  us,  they  should  not  be 
made  perfect.' 

"The  old  Greeks  accepted,  without  ques- 
tion, the  mythological  annals  of  close  and  in- 
timate relationship  between  gods  and  worship- 
ers. Instance  the  condescension  of  Pallas, 
when  she  became  the  mentor  of  Telemachus. 

"This  manifestation,  written  on  the  heart; 
this  inward  revelation,  independent  of  reason, 
and  often  opposed  to  reason,  so  called,  was 
then  but  imperfectly  translated  and  under- 
stood— was  but  a  shadow  of  the  better  things 
reserved  for  us;  and  while,  in  itself,  an  indi- 
cator of  certain  truth,  it  was  so  commingled 
with  the  error  of  their  vain  imaginings  that 
they  gave  heed  to  auguries,  and  had  faith  in 
Pythias  and  Sibyls,  who  delivered  the  ambig- 
uous messages  of  the  oracles.  The  wind  in 
the  vocal  oaks  and  the  tinkle  of  the  brazen 
basins  was,  to  them,  the  voice  of  a  god. 

"This  law,  faintly  lettered  and  poorly  read 
by  the  Gheber,  caused  him  to  see  his  god  in 
the  spiral  whirl  of  the  rising  flame — a  shadow 
of  that  pentecostal  fire  which  sat  in  cloven 
tongues  on  the  disciples'  heads. 

"The  Egyptian  Platonists  caught  symbols 
of  its  meaning  when,  by  theurgic  operations, 
they  thought  to  move  the  gods  to  fuller  reve- 


l8  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

lations  of  their  secrets,  and  render  their  glori- 
•ous  presence  visible  to  the  consciousness  of 
their  devotees.  And  out  of  the  corruption  of 
this  inestimably  precious  possession  came  the 
magicians  of  the  Pentateuch,  Simon  Magus, 
and  the  later  sorcerers  of  the  East,  with  all 
the  jugglery  and  chicanery  of  the  schools  of 
magic  which  their  perversity  founded.  ( Their 
name  is  legion,  for  they  are  many.' 

"These  historical  facts,  which  I  have 
briefly  referred  to,  are  often  quoted  by  the 
adversaries  of  our  claims  against  us.  Tenny- 
son once  wrote : 

'A  lie  that  is  all  a  lie, 

May  be  met  and  fought  with  outright ; 
But  a  lie  that  is  half  a  truth, 
Is  always  the  hardest  to  fight.' 

"Not,"  said  the  lecturer,  smiling,  "that  a  lie 
can  ever  be  so  compounded — it  is  only  seem- 
ing; and  the  truth  which  the  Christian  Sci- 
entist has  espoused,  like  all  other  truths, 
stands  impregnable  against  the  assaults  of 
wicked  persecution." 

Although  Francis  Bartlett  had  been  listen- 
ing closely,  he  had  also,  like  Herbert  Pocket, 
been  "looking  about  him." 

Up  near  the  platform  was  a  select  circle, 
or  coterie,  of  the  initiated  and  believing ;  also 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  19 

j 
those    who    were   but    learners    of   the    new 

doctrine. 

He  saw  long-haired  men  nod  approvingly, 
and  both  serious-faced  and  flippant-looking 
women  take  out  their  note-books  and  gold 
pencils,  with  heads  of  jasper  or  malachite,  to 
jot  down  notes  from  time  to  time. 

"A  rattling  good  talker,  isn't  she?"  asked 
a  dude  at  his  elbow,  as  he  fixed  his  eye-glass 
at  a  more  convenient  angle  for  a  steady  stare. 

Francis  Bartlett  turned  wrathfully  in  his 
direction,  to  discover  that  the  question  had 
not  been  addressed  to  him. 

Disgusted  with  himself,  the  circumstances — 
yes,  and  with  Sadie — he  began  to  shoulder 
his  way  through  the  press  of  people  behind 
him,  in  order  to  leave  the  place ;  but,  as  he 
did  so,  he  heard  distinctly  the  reply  of  the 
dude's  companion : 

"  You  bet ;  and  she  's  got  the  tin." 


II. 

he  reached  the  street  he  felt  very 
hot  and  disagreeable.  He  took  a  large 
handkerchief  from  the  inside  pocket  of 
his  coat,  and  hurriedly  wiped  his  face 
and  forehead,  removing  the  soft  traveling  hat 
he  had  been  wearing,  as  he  did  so,  and  baring 
his  head  to  the  cool  night  air. 

The  heavens  were  deeply  blue  and  full  of 
stars.  Orion  seemed  to  be  more  aggressively 
visible  than  usual. 

"What  a  crowd  a  little  town  like  this  can 
turn  out  to  hear  a  pretty  woman  lecture!" 
thought  he. 

"You  bet;  and  she  's  got  the  tin,"  seemed 
to  come  mockingly  to  his  ears. 

"I  wish  she  hadn't,"  muttered  he.  "If 
she  had  been  poor  enough  to  be  compelled  to 
do  something  real  and  true  I  If  she  only  had 
had  to  struggle  a  little  to  live ;  not  too  much — 
that  chills  and  crushes  hope,  and  discourages 
and  breaks  the  heart — women  were  never 
meant  for  it.  Man's  curse  was  to  labor,  and 
earn  his  bread  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow;  but 
woman's  place  is  'the  sweet,  safe  corner  by 
20 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  21 

the  household  fire,  behind  the  heads  of  chil- 
dren.' Only  enough — just  enough  work  to 
bring  out  what  is  finest,  best,  and  truest 
in  her!" 

He  did  not  say  all  this  in  approved  melo- 
dramatic style.  He  only  thought  the  greater 
part  of  it  as  he  went  slowly  along  past  the 
dusky,  fragrant  front  yards,  sweet  with  sum- 
mer flowers.  And  he  further  thought  that 
Sadie,  by  right,  might  expect  to  marry  a  man 
with  a  fortune  equal  to  her  own.  A  sigh  fol- 
lowed this  thought.  "Although,"  the  inward 
voice  went  on,  "a  right  sort  of  fellow  would  n't 
want  a  wife  imbued  with  that  kind  of  philoso- 
phy. I  think  I  will  try  to  convert  her  from 
it  before  he  comes.  I  said  she  did  n't  know 
any  more  about  those  things  than  a  kitten ! 
A  man  can  't  tell  what  a  cultivated  woman 
knows.  Her  insight  is  so  keen  she  learns 
from  everything.  While  man  masters  an  al- 
phabet, she  appropriates  the  sciences  to  which 
it  is  the  key.  But  Christian  Science  !  That 's 
a  misnomer.  She  's  subtle,  though ;  good  at 
reasoning ;  a  fine  logician.  Better  than  I  was 
when  I  made  my  maiden  plea — or  am  now, 
for  that  matter,  perhaps !  Was  it  an  eye 
Browning  called  'blue  as  Astarte's?'  Yes, 
her  eye  is  blue  enough,  and — so  am  I !" 


22  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

Next  morning,  Francis  Bartlett  came  down 
to  breakfast  at  what  he  considered  an  early 
hour.  In  times  past  such  an  hour  had  dis- 
covered his  Cousin  Sadie  in  bed,  fast  asleep ; 
and  it  had  been  considerably  later  in  the  fore- 
noon before  she  appeared  in  the  dining-room, 
in  her  picturesque  morning  dress  of  flowered 
China  silk,  or  a  loose  red  merino,  with  its 
graceful  little  train  and  negligb  effect,  which 
she  called  a  tea-gown. 

On  this  occasion  she  was  there  before  him, 
in  a  severely  plain  costume  of  very  dark  blue, 
buttoned  to  the  throat  like  an  officer's  uni- 
form, and  showing  her  slight  but  not  angular 
figure  to  advantage. 

She  came  forward,  and  gave  him  her  hand 
with  an  effusiveness  of  welcome  a  little  over- 
done— a  precipitancy,  which  seemed  to  say : 
"If  'twere  done,  when  'tis  done,  'twere  well 
it  were  done  quickly." 

It  appeared  to  Mrs.  Bartlett,  looking  on 
from  the  head  of  the  table,  as  if  Sadie  might 
have  dreaded  this  first  greeting,  and  desired 
to  have  it  over  as  soon  as  possible.  Truly, 
many  things  had  happened  since  these  young 
people  had  last  met. 

"Why,  Francis,  how  well  you  look!  Why 
didn't  you  let  us  know  you  were  coming?" 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  23 

"I  ought  to  have  done  so;  by  failing  to  do 
it,  I  missed  a  part  of  my  welcome  home." 

A  little  color  came  into  her  face;  it  was 
not  a  blush,  but  just  such  a  tinge  of  red  as  is 
often  called  up  by  the  inward  tenacity  and 
force  of  purpose  with  which  one's  will  rallies 
to  the  support  of  a  stimulating  resolution  sup- 
posed to  be  menaced  from  without. 

"I  had  an  engagement.  I  am  often  en- 
gaged, now,  in  the  evenings.  Sit  down;  the 
coffee  will  be  cold.  Perhaps  Aunt  Harriet 
may  have  told  you  that  I — "  the  blonde  head 
raised  itself  a  trifle  defiantly  on  the  firm, 
white  neck  supporting  it — "am  delivering  a 
course  of  lectures." 

"Ye — es,"  drawled  he,  a  little  absently,  sit- 
ting down  at  his  mother's  right  hand.  "  Two 
lumps,  mother!  I  've  taken  on  the  habit  of 
using  one  more  since  I  went  away.  Did  n't 
always  get  milk  in  camp.  And  are  you  well — 
Sarah?" 

The  color  now  on  Miss  Spencer's  face  was 
like  that  with  which  the  costumer  in  the  play 
makes  up  the  heroine's  complexion ;  there  was 
considerable  of  it,  and  it  was  well  diffused. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  had 
ever  called  her  by  that  title,  and  the  sound  of 
it  was  not  so  pleasing  as  it  had  seemed  to  her 


24  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

from  other  friends  and  acquaintances.  Still, 
Sadie  was  a  very  childish  prsenomen  for  a 
serious  young  woman  to  be  known  by,  and  she 
said  to  herself  it  was  very  well  that  Francis 
had  taken  the  initiative,  without  her  having 
had  to  instruct  him. 

"Never  better,"  said  she,  a  little  con- 
strainedly. 

"You  look  odd,  somehow;  what's  the  mat- 
ter? O,  to  be  sure!  You  have  on  a  street 
dress.  What  have  you  done  with  that  pink 
affair,  with  the  front  all  a  riot  of  roses — La 
France,  and  Jacques,  and  Perle  de — what  is  it?" 

She  laughed:  "How  observing  and  ac- 
curate individuals  of  your  sex  always  are  in 
describing  women's  gowns!  I'm  in  street 
dress  because  I  go  out  mornings  to — to  treat 
my  patients." 

Mr.  Bartlett  coughed,  and  became  ominously 
silent.  His  brows  contracted,  and  the  two 
vertical  lines  between  them  came  into  promi- 
nence. The  lawyer  on  the  other  side  of  the 
case  always  knew  that  '  Bartlett  was  warming 
to  his  work '  when  he  saw  that  sign  appear. 

"I  should  have  thought,"  began  he,  and 
she  straightened  her  spine  for  the  expected 
onslaught,  when  suddenly  the  tinkle  of  a  bell 
was  heard  from  somewhere  in  the  upper  re- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  25 

gions  of  the  house.  Miss  Spencer  jumped  up, 
and  threw  down  her  napkin.  "  Excuse  me, 
please,"  said  she,  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 
Frank  got  upon  his  feet,  also,  and  looked  in- 
quiringly at  his  mother. 

"It's  her  telephone-bell,"  explained  she. 
"She  has  put  telephones,  at  her  own  expense, 
into  more  than  half  a  dozen  houses  of  people 
she  professes  to  'treat.'  Listen!" 

The  doors  and  windows  were  open  through- 
out the  house,  and  presently,  like  a  hail  to  a 
ship  in  the  offing,  he  heard  the  high,  strained 
call,  as  of  a  voice  on  stilts,  shoot  its  unsteady 
silvery  salute  into  the  transmitter — "Hello!" 

"She  would  better  lower  her  voice  a  little; 
they  'd  hear  her  more  distinctly.  People  have 
an  idea  that  telephones  are  deaf.  Well,  ma 
mere,  how  long  has  this  tomfoolery  been  go- 
ing on?" 

"A  couple  of  months,  or  such  a  matter.  I 
knew  you  wouldn't  like  it;  but  she  laid  the 
whole  matter  before  me  in  the  start,  and  told 
me  she  would  abide  by  my  decision.  Could 
she  have  the  liberty  of  the  house  in  carrying 
on  this  work,  or  would  it  annoy  me  ?  She 
said  she  could  get  Mr.  Patchett's  cottage,  and 
Miss  Jane  York  for  a  chaperon,  if  I  thought  it 
would  be  disagreeable  to  have  her  and  her  tel- 

3 


26  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

ephone,  and  at  times,  perhaps,  her  patients 
here.  So,  what  could  I  do?  I  knew  it  would 
not  look  well  to  have  her  leave  us  in  that 
fashion.  Her  friends  would  have  called  it  re- 
ligious persecution  on  our  part,  and  those  who 
don't  believe  in  it  would  have  said  she  was  a 
crank;  and  she  would  have  been  spied  upon 
and  slandered,  perhaps.  I  knew,  too,  she  was 
under  your  guardianship — " 

"Yes,  yes;  I  understand — and  many  other 
reasons.  As  to  the  guardianship,  you  know  it 
does  n't  extend  to  anything  but  her  property 
since  she  came  of  age.  Her  father  was  wise, 
though,  to  give  her  only  the  income  until  she 
is  twenty-five.  She  seems  to  be  dispensing 
that  with  a  liberal  hand,  however,  as  regards 
telephones.  But  you  were  right,  quite  right, 
in  not  letting  her  go  to  Patchett's.  Is  that 
nephew  of  his  here  this  summer?" 

uMr.  Langdon?  Well — rather.  He  brought 
the  doctor  home  last  evening.  Didn't  you 
hear  them  talking  over  the  gate?" 

Francis  Bartlett  turned  toward  the  win- 
dow, thoughtfully  pulling  his  heavy,  tawny 
mustache,  and  neglected  to  answer  his  mother's 
question.  As  she  looked  after  him,  a  sly, 
swift,  satisfied  smile  passed  across  her  lips, 
and  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  complacently. 


HI. 

.  BARTLETT  went  down  to  his  office, 
and  "buckled  down,"  as  he  called  it, 
to  the  examination  of  piles  of  briefs,  con- 
tracts, and  a  mklange  of  other  papers 
which  had  accumulated  during  his  absence. 
He  held  an  extended  stance  with  his  junior 
partner,  and  made  a  mighty  feint  of  rushing 
once  more  into  the  full-flowing  tide  of  his  erst- 
while interrupted  business  affairs. 

But,  somehow  or  other,  he  felt  like  Saul 
when  the  witch  of  Bndor  had  brought  up 
Samuel — the  spirit  had  gone  out  of  him. 

His  home-coming  had  been  robbed  of  the 
pleasure  which  he  had  anticipated  while  away. 
He  saw  no  prospect,  now,  that  matters  were  at 
all  likely  to  drift  back  into  the  old  trend. 
There  appeared  no  promise  of  renewing  the 
former  pastimes,  which,  in  winter,  were  the 
lecture,  concert,  or  the  new  book  to  be  read 
and  discussed  in  company  with  Sadie,  under 
the  shaded  light  of  the  "sitting-room  lamp ;  or, 
now  and  then,  an  entire  evening  at  the  piano, 
trying  new  selections,  or  growing  dreamy  and 
happy  over  the  recital  of  old  ones.  In  sum- 

27 


28  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

mer  there  was  boating,  an  occasional  horse- 
back ride,  or  evenings  when  Sadie  swung  lazily 
in  the  hammock  under  the  trees,  and  he,  sit- 
ting near,  watched  the  stars  and  the  fire-flies 
and  the  slender  figure,  looking  half  like  a 
ghost,  as  its  white  draperies  shone  out  of  the 
dusky  gloom. 

At  such  times  he  had  been  reconciled  even 
to  the  chaperonage  of  his  mother,  as  she  sat 
at  a  discreet  distance  in  a  rocking-chair,  which 
creaked  as  it  rocked,  wearing  a  three-cornered 
white  affair  over  her  head  that  looked  like  a 
tidy,  and  holding  a  Japanese  fan,  with  which 
she  busied  herself  in  fighting  off  the  mosqui- 
toes. Somehow  he  had  been  so  foolishly  happy 
in  listening  to  Sadie's  piquant  prattle,  with  its 
undertone  of  wistful  gravity.  He  had  thought 
her  deference  to  his  larger  wisdom  so  appeal- 
ing. Her  follies  had  been  so  harmless  and 
pretty  they  had  almost  taken  the  guise  of  vir- 
tues; and  she  had  been  so  full  of  sparkling 
fancies  that  she  was  like  a  brilliant  with  many 
faces,  all  of  which  take  the  light  and  throw  it 
back  in  a  dazzle  of  radiance.  He  would  have 
proposed  marriage  to  Sadie  long  ere  this,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  her  money. 

Francis  Bartlett  had  an  assertive  sentiment 
that  the  man  was  the  head  of  the  woman,  and 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  29 

that  for  a  wife  to  possess  so  patent  an  ad- 
vantage over  her  husband  as  to  be  the  moneyed 
partner  in  the  matrimonial  alliance,  was  some- 
thing not  at  all  to  be  desired. 

He  did  not  feel  certain  that  Sadie  would 
have  accepted  him  under  any  circumstances, 
however;  but,  up  to  the  time  of  his  going 
away,  the  present  had  been  quite  pleasant 
enough,  without  attempting  to  forecast  the  fu- 
ture too  accurately. 

He  had  not  invited  Sadie  to  correspond 
with  him  for  the  reason  that  he  feared  to 
commit  himself,  in  so  intimate  a  correspond- 
ence as  that  might  have  become,  to  something 
which  his  judgment  would  afterward  con- 
demn. So,  regretfully,  he  had  held  in  abey- 
ance this  friendship,  with  its  tendency  on  his 
part  to  ripen  into  something  warmer,  during 
the  six  months  of  his  absence. 

He  had  thought  to  return  and  find  all 
things  as  they  had  been  hitherto ;  to  surren- 
der himself,  in  spite  of  the  dissenting  voice  of 
prudence,  to  the  fascinating  delights  of — 
home,  he  called  it.  But,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  this  young  man  thought  his  mother 
something  quite  unique  in  the  maternal  line, 
"home"  meant  to  his  appreciative  percep- 
tions, two-thirds  Sadie  and  one  "ma  mere." 


30  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

All  things  else  were  "as  they  had  been;" 
but  an  unexpected  and  overwhelming  cata- 
clysm seemed  to  have  swept  Sadie  suddenly 
and  completely  away  from  him. 

He  had  at  first  been  astonished,  then 
amused,  then  indignant,  at  the  turn  affairs 
had  taken. 

All  these  varying  states  and  conditions  of 
feeling  had  alternately  been  uppermost  before 
he  stood  in  the  doorway  of  the  G.  A.  R.  Hall, 
and  listened  to  an  infinitesimal  portion  of 
Sadie's  lecture.  The  prevailing  state  of  mind 
which  followed  upon  this,  was  that  of  pro- 
found perplexity. 

It  would  not  greatly  have  surprised  him  if, 
under  certain  circumstances,  with  environ- 
ments to  foster  it,  this  bright,  sparkling  crea- 
ture had  developed  into  a  butterfly ;  but  a 
religieuse,  and  an  austere  and  mystical  one 
at  that ! 

Nothing  suits  men  better  than  to  have  the 
women  they  admire  filled  with  tender  Chris- 
tian aspirations,  which  serve  to  round  and 
complete  and  crown,  with  idealistic  touch, 
their  otherwise  already  beautiful  human  char- 
acters. 

Men  of  no  decided  religious  views  of  their 
own,  and  men  with  decidedly  antagonistic 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  3! 

views,  for  the  regulation  of  their  own  lives 
and  conduct,  are  well  agreed  that  it  behooves 
women  to  be  good.  And  if  such  women  be- 
long to  them  by  ties  of  blood,  or  the  closer 
ties  of  the  heart,  they  are  often  inclined,  even 
in  the  midst  of  ridicule  or  satire  upon  Chris- 
tians in  general,  to  plume  themselves  upon 
the  superior  Christianity  of  these  in  partic- 
ular. As^if,  somehow,  it  formed  an  segis  of 
protection  for  them  likewise ;  and,  like  all  the 
other  virtues  of  their  women-kind,  was  super- 
erogatory in  its  nature — the  excess,  over  and 
above,  being  imputed  to  them  ! 

To  have  found  that  Sadie  had  "embraced 
religion"  in  the  normal  way,  become  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Church  they  had  both  been  brought 
up  to  attend,  and  of  which  he  himself  was  a 
well-paying,  if  not  a  highly  or  deeply  spiritual 
member,  would  have  suited  his  conceptions 
of  what  was  right,  desirable,  and  proper. 
But  this  phantasm,  this  will-o'-the-wisp,  this — 
er — "fly-up-the-creek"  (a  peculiar  bird,  so 
known  in  the  homely  nomenclature  of  the 
country,  coming  into  his  mind),  was  altogether 
a  different  matter. 

Sadie  taking  herself  seriously  was,  in  it- 
self, a  surprise.  But  the  surprise  widened 
and  deepened  as  it  became,  from  day  to  day, 


32  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

more  fully  impressed  upon  him  that  she  was 
taking  her  self-imposed  mission  to  minister  to 
a  sick  and  suffering  clientelage,  very  seriously 
as  well. 

How  a  girl  of  twenty-three,  who  had  had 
but  the  ordinary  school-training  in  physiology 
and  hygiene,  and  promptly  forgotten  the 
major  part  of  it  without  doubt,  could  have 
the  assurance  to  attempt  to  cure  people  of 
fevers,  consumption,  cancers,  and  the  like,  was 
something  beyond  his  comprehension. 

He  propounded  this  question  to  his  mother — 
how  could  such  a  thing  be? 

Mrs.  Bartlett  laughed  at  him  gaily,  and 
shook  her  head. 

"When  you  speak  of  her  aptitude  as  a 
healer  in  connection  with  a  knowledge  of 
physiology,  and  anything  else  so  gross  and 
unreal  as  a  human  body,  you  display  your  ig- 
norance most  lamentably.  She  gets  a  spiritual 
or  mental '  illumination '  as  tp  what  is  the  mat- 
ter with  the  seeming  body  of  the  patient,  and 
another  as  to  the  remedial  means  to  be  applied 
in  the  case. 

"Hygienic  precautions  are  considered  cul- 
pable follies,  if  not  actual  sins,  because  they 
concede  the  existence  of  evil,  through  the  en- 
deavor to  avoid  it.  Sanitary  advocates  are  an 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  33 

aggravated  type  of  evil-doers.  You  have  only  to 
imagine  the  air  off  the  muck  or  garbage  heap 
festering  in  the  sun,  or  a  volume  of  sewer-gas, 
pure  and  salubrious,  and  it  will  brace  the  res- 
piratory organs  like  the  balmy  breath  of  bal- 
samic odors.  Jenner's  discovery  is  to  Sadie 
and  her  school  an  enemy  to  human  progress; 
Pasteur's  career  is  disgusting  and  horrible  to 
contemplate;  and  they  turn  from  Koch's  lymph 
of  tuberculous  germs  in  a  holy  horror  too  deep 
for  words.  They  believe  in  and  admit  the 
origin  and  progress  of  no  disease  independent 
of  mental  belief,  and  discard  every  remedy 
which  lies  outside  of  it." 

"  But  what  of  those  insidious  diseases  that 
begin  and  make  progress  long  before  the  de- 
tective nerves  of  sensation  have  made  their 
tardy  report?  The  slow-growing  tumors  and 
cancers,  or  the  sudden  amaurosis  or  other 
paralysis,  instantaneously  developing  from  an- 
tecedent causes  not  before  apprehended?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Somebody 
else's  mind — somebody  else's!  When  Cain,  in 
his  rustic  cradle,  had  the  world's  first  case  of 
colic,  it  must  clearly  have  been  attributable  to 
Adam  and  Eve.  They  had  never  heard  or 
known  of  colic,  it  is  true  ;  but  is  it  not  highly 
probable  that  their  minds  may  have  conjee- 


34  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

tured  a  possible  state  of  potential,  obvious  evil, 
resulting  in  the  seeming  disturbance  of  appar- 
ent gastric  conditions?" 

"O,  exceedingly!"  said  he,  laughing.  "But, 
jesting  aside,  this  seems  horrible  to  me.  I 
can't  understand  how  a  true,  good,  honest  girl, 
such  as  Sadie  always  was,  can  lend  herself  to 
such  a  mockery  and  mummery  as  this  evi- 
dently is — such  an  unblushing  cheat!" 

"Be  quiet,  dear.  Don't  say  such  hard 
things.  Sadie  is  true  and  honest  still.  She 
is  a  dupe,  herself.  She  has  listened  to  a  siren's 
song.  This,  which  is  neither  a  religion  nor 
yet  a  science,  but  professing  to  be  both,  comes 
in  the  name  of  Christ  (to  which,  of  course,  it 
has  no  right,  I  know),  promising  to  do  away 
with  all  the  evils  flesh  is  heir  to — even  death, 
itself;  and  it  has  appealed  to  her  highly  imag- 
inative mind  with  a  great  deal  of  force.  She 
means  well.  She  thinks  she  is  doing  good, 
and  she  has  a  sort  of  aesthetic  enjoyment  in 
this  abandonment  of  realism,  that  she  takes  to 
be  spirituality.  Frank,  I  wish  you  would  go 
about  combating  this  fad — if  it  may  be  called 
that,  being  so  much  more  dangerous — in  the 
right  way.  Study  it,  and  show  her  its  fallacies, 
beginning,  of  course,  with  the  proof  that  it 
isn't  Christian,  at  all.  She  leaves  her  books 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  35 

around  all  over  the  house — read  them.  It's  a 
pity,  I  think,  if  Francis  Bartlett,  ^-squire,  as 
Nora's  young  man  insists  on  calling  you,  can 
not  down  her  aiguments," 

"Look  here,  mother,"  called  he  cautiously; 
"that  looks  as  if  the  attraction  might  be 
mutual/"  (directing  her  attention  to  the  win- 
dow.) 

Mrs.  Bartlett  did  look,  and  a  frown  came 
over  her  pleasant,  placid  forehead. 

Mr.  Langdon  and  Miss  Spencer  were  com- 
ing along  the  plank  sidewalk,  upon  which  the 
front  yard  looked,  together.  She  was  in  her 
dark-blue  gown,  and  wore  a  flaring,  wide- 
brimmed  hat  of  coarse  blue  straw,  trimmed 
with  bunches  of  ribbon,  darker  still. 

She  held  in  one  hand  a  large  sun-umbrella, 
and  in  the  other  a  deep-red  rose,  which  her 
companion  had  evidently  just  given  her,  for 
she  was  pressing  it  to  her  dainty  nose,  and 
exclaiming  rapturously:  "How  sweet!  How 
delicious!  I  am  so  fond  of  roses!" 

Mr,  Langdon  felt  tempted  to  say  to  her: 

"Why  are  you  fond  of  them?  They  have 
no  color,  no  form,  no  perfume.  They  are 
simply  an  idea  that  you  and  I  and  the  world 
in  general  have  in  common.  They  do  not 
exist,  you  know,  per  se"  But  he  did  not  say 


36  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

it,  for  two  reasons!  One  was  that  he  loved 
her — the  other,  that  he  desired  to  make  her 
love  him;  and  something  seemed  to  tell  him 
that  that  way  danger  lay. 

So,  being  wise  as  a  serpent  in  that  regard, 
he  strove,  also,  to  be  harmless  as  a  dove.  He 
said:  "Delicious,  indeed!"  and  looked  at  her. 
And,  greatly  to  her  disgust  and  fiery  indigna- 
tion with  herself,  she  began  to  blush,  and 
turned  her  head  away. 

They  came  up  to  the  gate,  both  of  them 
looking  conscious  and  feeling  certain  that 
Francis  Bartlett,  sitting  so  composedly  by 
the  window,  reading  his  World,  had  seen  and 
put  his  own  interpretation  upon  this  little 
contretemps. 

She  leaned  upon  the  gate  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  talked.  It  was  because  she  dreaded 
to  go  in;  but  neither  the  man  on  the  sidewalk 
nor  the  one  behind  the  paper  knew  this.  The 
latter,  thus  shielded,  looked  at  his  rival  from 
a  coign  of  vantage. 

He  saw  a  lithe,  elegant  figure,  courtly  and 
graceful ;  a  handsome  Southern  face,  with  clear, 
olive  complexion  and  dark  eyes;  a  proud,  sen- 
sitive mouth,  with  a  drooping  mustache  such 
as  has  gifted  more  than  one  hero  of  romance, 
and  many  a  rascally  scamp  in  real  life,  with 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  37 

the  melancholy  charm  so  difficult  for  impres- 
sionable youth  and  beauty  to  resist. 

"He  has  n't  a  great  deal  of  body,"  growled 
Francis  Bartlett,  from  behind  the  paper. 

"Body!"  said  Mrs.  Bartlett,  spiritedly; 
"that's  exactly  what  he  doesn't  need,  you 
know,  to  make  his  way  with  Sarah  Katherine. 
She  may  conclude  to  marry  him,  as  Dorothy, 
in  'Middlemarch,'  did  Mr.  Casaubon,  for  'his 
beautiful  soul.' ' 

Francis  gave  his  mother  an  annihilating 
look,  and  strode  out  of  the  room. 


WEEK  passed  away,  very  much  after 

this  same  fashion.     Francis  Bartlett  and 

a,    Sarah    Spencer    dwelt    under    the    same 

'      roof,  but  the  old  days  of  companionship 

and  confidence  seemed  forever  to  be  over. 

When  he  came  in,  she  was  always  out,  or 
reading  books  on  this  new  theology  in  her 
room,  or  responding,  "  Hello !  hello !"  over 
her  telephone,  to  the  calls  of  those  whom  she 
spoke  of  grandiloquently  as  her  "people." 

Once,  during  that  time,  Judge  Blimber,  a 
wealthy  widower  of  about  a  year's  standing, 
and  not  at  all  bad  to  look  at,  had  driven  up 
with  his  elegant  carriage  and  span,  for  Miss 
Spencer  to  fulfill  an  engagement  to  drive 
with  him. 

Francis  was  sitting  in  the  parlor  at  the 
time — just  after  an  early  tea — but  the  judge 
could  not  leave  his  restive  team,  and  did  not 
go  in,  waiting  outside  for  the  lady  hastily 
donning  her  hat  and  gloves  tip-stairs. 

Francis  measured  the  judge  with  a  new 
rule  this  time.  He  had  known  him  as  a  suc- 
cessful lawyer,  afterward  awarded  judicial 
38 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  39 

honors ;  but  had  never  considered  him  as  a 
lady's  man.  He  had  thought  of  him  as  an 
"old  duffer;"  but  in  point  of  fact  the  judge 
was  not  above  forty,  with  a  pleasing  manner, 
and  a  practical  capacity  for  piling  up  money. 

The  hand  which  he  gracefully  extended  to 
assist  Miss  Spencer  to  a  seat,  when  she  made 
her  appearance,  was  most  exquisitely  gloved. 
He  wore  a  high  silk  hat,  with  a  weed  the 
depth  of  its  crown. 

As  they  drove  away,  the  young  man  thought 
to  himself  that  the  late  Mrs.  Blimber  would 
hardly  have  been  satisfied  with  that  "weed," 
if  she  could  have  seen  the  air  and  smile  with 
which  her  aforetime  husband  laid  an  exquisite 
bunch  of  roses  upon  his  companion's  lap. 

In  truth,  Francis  was  not  satisfied  with  it 
himself,  but  became  a  little  more  reconciled 
as  he  glanced  toward  the  other  side  of  the 
street,  and  saw  passing  by  his  late  b&te  noire 
from  the  sunny  South,  who  looked  quite  as 
disconsolate  as  he  felt. 

"Sadie's  admirers  all  seem  to  have  tum- 
bled to  the  preference  for  roses,"  thought  he ; 
and  then,  a  little  ashamed  of  the  coarse  form 
his  thought  had  taken,  he  covered  it  up  with 
a  line  of  Tennyson's : 

"  And  the  soul  of  the  rose  went  into  my  blood." 


40  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

Just  then,  Nora,  with  the  privileged  air  of 
semi-rural  servants,  put  her  head  in  at  the 
door,  saying: 

"  The  likes  of  men !  They  easy  forget 
them  that 's  gone.  But  I  do  n't  know  as  bet- 
ter could  be  expected,  when  you  consider  that 
every  girl  in  this  town  is  greasin'  her  shoes 
to  run  after  him,  and  poor  Mis's  Blimber's 
only  been  in  her  grave  a  year  come  this  fourth 
of  July.  I  was  saying  that  same  to  Mr. 
Dempsey  yesterday,  and  what  do  you  think 
he  said?" 

"That  he  wouldn't  be  that  kind  of  a 
widower  when  his  Nora  mavourneen  'under 
the  willows  was  sleeping !'  " 

"O,  Mr.  Francis!  I  didn't  think  you'd 
make  fun  of  a  poor  girl!  He  said  he  'reck- 
oned the  judge  thought  she  's  as  dead  as  she 
ever  would  be.' ' 

And  then  Nora  looked  sharply  at  the  law- 
yer, to  take  note  of  his  appreciation  of  her 
young  man's  'cuteness. 

He  threw  back  his  head,  and  laughed  out- 
right— a  genuine,  merry,  heart-whole  laugh. 

"And  he  had  the  right  of  it,"  said  he,  his 
merriment  subsiding.  "But  is  Miss  Spencer 
one  of  those  who  has  been  'greasin'  her 
shoes?'  " 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  41 

"Not  she!  The  women  that  come  here 
seem  to  think  she  's  a  complete  saint ;  but,  I 
tell  you,  she  looked  as  human  as  what  they 
are  when  she  put  on  her  hat  to-night,  saying 
that  she  '  could  n't  get  out  of  it  this  time ;  but 
there  was  one  sure  thing  about  it,  that  this 
would  be  the  last  time.'  " 

At  this,  Mr.  Bartlett's  spirits  rose  like 
mercury  in  a  thermometer  on  a  hot  sum- 
mer day. 

He  forgot  all  about  George  Langdon,  and 
he  might  have  gone  so  far  as  to  kiss  Nora  for 
the  disposal  of  one  rival  at  least,  had  it  not 
been  that  he  possessed  too  chivalrous  a  spirit 
to  take  undue  liberties  with  a  girl  because 
her  social  position  was  inferior  to  his  own. 

But,  although  Judge  Blimber's  promised 
conge  kept  Mr.  Bartlett  tolerably  comfortable 
over  night,  the  sober  second  thought  of  the 
ensuing  day  made  it  very  clear  to  his  con- 
sciousness that,  no  matter  how  many  of  those 
who  pretended  to  the  hand  of  his  second 
cousin  might  meet  with  short  shrift  from  it, 
it  did  not  in  any  wise  alter  his  own  relation 
toward  her. 

And  yet  what  had  he  to  complain  of?  He 
had  never  made  it  evident  to  Sadie  that  he 
cared  for  her  as  a  lover.  He,  it  appeared,  had 

4 


42  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

desired  to  play  the  r61e  of  "cousin,"  and  be  a 
dog  in  the  manger.  Somehow,  even  now,  the 
knowledge  of  her  bonds  and  stocks,  first  mort- 
gages, etc.,  was  just  as  difficult  to  get  over, 
and  as  subversive  to  the  idea  of  their  estab- 
lishing a  conjugal  firm  as  ever;  although,  if 
Sadie  had  a  fellow-feeling  to  that  which  he 
experienced  for  her,  and  he  was  very  sure  of 
it,  why — everybody  has  to  sacrifice  some  opin- 
ions to  the  behests  of  the  heart ! 

When  he  had  arrived  at  this  sapient  con- 
clusion, he  threw  down  his  pen  and  banged 
the  covers  of  his  open  book  in  so  vindictive  a 
manner  that  the  clerk  reading  "Campbell  on 
Equity "  looked  up  in  surprise  and  conster- 
nation. 

"I'm  going  out  for  the  day,"  said  he.  "If 
Croft  calls  for  that  paper,  it 's  in  this  lower 
pigeon-hole  in  the  right-hand  corner ;  and  you 
may  tell  Mrs.  Weeks,  if  she  happens  in,  that 
I'm  giving  that  matter  of  hers  due  attention." 

Then  he  slammed  the  door,  only  to  open  it 
again  immediately  to  remark  that  "nobody 
need  come  to  the  house  after  him,  as  he  was 
going  out  of  town." 

He  met  Judge  Blimber  just  outside  the 
court-house,  and  was  pleased  to  observe  that 
he  was  not  smiling,  and,  if  anything,  looked  a 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  43 

little  sour.  He  went  home  and  hunted  up  his 
rod  and  fishing-line,  a  box  of  hooks,  and  some 
gorgeous  red  and  yellow  flies. 

Nobody  was  there  but  Nora,  who  respect- 
fully tried  to  persuade  him  to  delay  his  de- 
parture until  after  dinner,  as  there  was  to  be 
a  strawberry  short-cake.  She  did  not  succeed ; 
but  they  compromised  the  matter  by  her  wrap- 
ping up  some  beef  sandwiches  and  pickles  and 
a  hard-boiled  egg  in  one  of  his  mother's  finest 
napkins,  bordered  with  drawn-work. 

"And  if  you  want  me  to  keep  on  staying 
here,  Mr.  Francis,  do  you  be  sure  to  bring 
back  that  napkin,"  said  she. 

"Which  same  I  do;  and  it  shall  come  back 
again." 

Then  he  shouldered  his  tackle  and  was  off, 
with  the  sandwiches  in  his  pocket. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  objective  point  of 
his  pedestrian  tour,  he  found  that  he  was  con- 
siderably heated,  and,  throwing  off  his  hat,  lay 
down  in  the  shade  on  the  bank  of  the  stream 
to  cool  off. 

"What  a  fool  I  am!"  quoth  he,  "rushing 
off  and  leaving  my  business  in  this  way!" 

There  was  nobody  to  dispute  this  proposi- 
sion,  so  he  let  it  stand. 

Then  when  he  had  cooled  off,  it  was  so 


44  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

quiet  and  deliciously  secluded,  and  a  yellow- 
vested  bumble-bee  was  droning  in  so  restful  a 
monotone  among  the  fennel-weeds  that  grew 
thickly  around  him,  he  concluded  that  "forty 
winks"  would  do  him  as  much  good  as  it  did 
the  Fat  Boy  in  "  Pickwick,"  and  resigned  him- 
self to  a  qiiiet  little  nap — all  of  which  was 
the  very  reverse  of  romantic,  or  the  sequel  to 
be  expected  of  an  impetuous  man  whose  wor- 
ries of  mind  over  a  fair  maiden  had  made  him 
temporarily  incompetent  for  the  consideration 
of  complicated  legal  affairs. 

Perhaps  he  realized  this  when  he  awoke. 
At  least,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  with  the 
remark  that  "human  nature  was  queer  mate- 
rial," and  proceeded  to  discuss  Nora's  lunch, 
after  which  he  pocketed  the  napkin,  to  make 
sure  it  wouldn't  get  away. 

Then  he  sat  up,  tilted  his  hat  over  his  eyes, 
and  turned  his  attention  to  the  finny  popula- 
tion in  the  waters  before  him.  The  stream 
was  a  beautiful,  meandering  ribbon  of  silver, 
with  a  musical-sounding  Indian  name ;  but 
the  people  who  lived  in  the  town  and  adjacent 
country  spoke  of  it  only  as  "  the  crick." 


ik. 

HERE  is  a  natural  vein  of  cruelty  in  man. 

Scratch  the  civilized  gentleman   and  you 

find  the  barbarian. 

Francis  Bartlett  became  wonderfully 
absorbed  in  his  occupation.  He  forgot,  for  the 
nonce,  all  about  Sadie  and  Langdon,  and  the 
vexing  questions  of  which  they  were  the 
subjects. 

Casting  his  line,  he  sat  looking  down  into 
the  pellucid  water,  so  clear  that  its  gravelly 
bed,  strewn  with  pebbles,  seemed  clarified  and 
magnified,  as  something  looked  at  through  a 
microscopic  lens.  How  smoothly  the  silver- 
skinned  denizens  of  this  liquid  under-world 
slipped  through  its  vital  element !  It  re- 
minded him  of  Andersen's  fairy-tale  about  the 
"Little  Mermaid,"  which  was  one  of  the  favor- 
ite stories  of  the  hobbledehoy  period  of  his 
life — a  time  when  most  boys  have  outgrown 
the  magic  charms  of  elf-lore,  and  are  wild  for 
adventures  and  the  sea.  But  he  had  admired 
it  for  its  poetry  and  imagery;  it  touched  his 
sympathy  with  its  strain  of  yearning  and  les- 
son of  heroic,  unappreciated  sacrifice. 

45 


46  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

Did  they  feel  and  think — these  creatures — 
as  the  little  mermaid  did?  And  suffer? 
Then  there  was  a  jerk,  and  the  line  tightened. 
A  struggle  in  the  water,  a  glint  of  sunlight  on 
the  silver  scales,  and  the  poetry  and  imagery 
and  sympathy  with  the  under-world  life  was 
instantaneously  dispelled. 

He  was  conscious,  just  then,  of  nothing  be- 
yond the  proud  fact  of  having  landed  his  prey. 
And  he  straightway  secured  it,  and  left  it  to 
die,  regardless  of  the  question  of  its  sufferings. 

Again  and  again  came  the  jerk  and  the 
taut  line,  and  the  string  of  his  trophies  was 
lengthening  apace,  when,'  casually  looking  up 
the  stream,  he  beheld  a  pleasing  sight. 

It  was  not  a  royal  barge,  like  that  in  which 
Antony  first  beheld  Cleopatra,  with  purple 
sails  and  u  poop  of  beaten  gold."  It  was  only 
a  boat,  a  little  -boat  that  the  old  man  below 
the  bridge  often  rented  to  pleasure-seekers  go- 
ing upon  the  water.  It  was  too  far  off  for  him 
to  road  its  name,  but  he  knew  its  shape  and 
color,  and  just  where  "The  Pansy"  was  painted 
on  its  strakes  in  golden  letters. 

In  the  exact  center  of  the  boat,  in  the 
middle  of  the  thwart  which  crossed  it,  was  a  sol- 
itary oarswoman.  No  dawdling  voluptuary, 
but  a  lithe,  light,  erect  figure,  full  of  vigorous 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  47 

strength,  sending  the  row-boat  forward  with 
the  strokes  of  her  own  oars. 

He  was  certain  it  was  Sadie,  by  her  general 
air  and  carriage,  and  the  pose  of  her  head  as 
it  leaned  forward,  while  she  stretched  the  oar 
to  the  limit  of  the  stopper.  He,  himself,  had 
taught  her  the  technicalities  of  rowing,  and 
prided  himself  on  the  proficiency  of  his  pupil. 
Then,  as  she  came  nearer,  he  caught  a  dazzling 
impression  of  color  from  her  white  blouse,  blue 
skirt,  and  the  vivid  red  silk  handkerchief 
knotted  about  her  throat,  to  protect  the  back 
of  her  neck  from  sunburn. 

She  wore  a  white  sailor-hat,  banded  about 
by  a  white  ribbon,  and  set  well  back  upon  her 
head,  giving  her  a  piquant  and  jaunty  air, 
and  intensifying  the  youthfulness  of  her  ap- 
pearance. 

Miss  Spencer,  upon  her  part,  had  caught 
sight  of  Mr.  Bartlett  over  her  shoulder,  only  a 
short  time  after  he  had  detected  her  approach, 
and  gave  a  start  as  she  lecognized  him. 

How  well  she  knew  his  form  and  air  and 
style!  That  was  the  easy-fitting,  careless  sack 
coat  he  sometimes  wore  about  the  house  and 
on  his  rural  tramps,  when  the  vagabondish 
spirit,  of  which  some  men  possess  more  than 
others,  and  of  which  he  had  a  goodly  share, 


48  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

came  uppermost.  The  very  way  in  which  his 
handkerchief  was  thrust  into  its  outside  upper 
pocket,  was  instinct  with  his  individuality. 

What  broad,  square,  masculine  shoulders, 
that  transformed  the  old  flannel  coat,  as  it 
hung  over  them,  into  a  thing  of  beauty!  His 
straw  hat  was  tip-tilted  over  his  eyes. 

"Poor  fellow!"  aspirated  she.  "He  ap- 
pears dejected!"  Then,  bethinking  herself, 
she  added:  "I  am  glad  of  it;  he  ought  to  be." 
"  How  shall  I  pass  him  ?"  reflected  she.  "  He  is 
a  lion  in  the  way.  Shall  I  go  on,  with  a  stiff 
bow,  or  halt  and  make  some  careless  remark, 
just  to  show  I  do  n't  care  for  the  way  he  has 
acted?  Or,  shall  I  look  straight  into  space, 
and  pretend  not  to  see  him  at  all?" 

And  when  she  had  about  concluded  to  pursue 
the  latter  course,  he  put  both  hands  to  his  mouth, 
like  a  speaking-trumpet,  and  called  out: 

"Hello!     Hello!" 

This  she  took  to  be  a  reflection  upon  her 
telephone,  and  looked  in  another  direction. 

"Ahoy!     Ahoy!     Friend,  ahoy!" 

"What  impudence!  He  would  wake  the 
'seven  sleepers!'  I  shall  have  to  look."  But 
her  rigid  neck  had  not  yet  turned  in  his  di- 
rection when  he  cried  out: 

"Sadie!     Sadie!     Come  alongside." 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  49 

"O,  is  it  you,  Francis?" 

"Please  come  alongside.  I  want  to  speak 
to  you?" 

"Anything  important?" 

"Very  important,  to  me." 

"If  some  other  time  will  do  as  well,  I  am 
going  two  or  three  miles  further  down  the 
stream." 

She  turned  the  bow  in  his  direction,  and  in 
a  moment  or  two  more  the  boat  sat  rocking 
on  the  water  in  front  of  him. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Sadie?" 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  then,  with  a  little 
constraint  in  her  air,  replied: 

"I  am  taking  some  things  to  a  family  down 
near  the  Aldershot  farm.  They  are  down  on 
their  luck,  and  this  is  a  relief  expedition." 

"Pick  me  up,  and  let  me  go  along.  Fancy 
me  a  castaway,  and  relieve  me  from  existence 
on  a  desert  island." 

She  hesitated.  She  felt,  instinctively,  that 
Francis  Bartlett,  to  use  a  homely  phrase,  had 
a  "rod  in  pickle"  for  her;  and  ever  since  his 
return  she  had  avoided  being  alone  with  him, 
lest,  like  the  sword  of  Damocles,  it  should  de- 
scend upon  her.  But  there  seemed,  now,  no 
escape  for  her,  without  the  display  of  down- 
right incivility. 


50  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"I  will  contribute,"  suggested  he,  insin- 
uatingly, holding  up  his  string  of  fish. 

"But — I  don't  believe  you  know  them," 
she  began. 

"Well,  if  I  don't,  I  am  very  easy  to  get 
acquainted  with.  There  is  a  great  deal  of — 
what  do  you  call  it  ? — affinite  de  g&nie  in  my 
make  up.  Who  are  they?" 

"Their  name  is  Eppert" 

"Eppert? — Joe  Eppert?  That's  rather 
rich,  my  not  knowing  Joe  Eppert !  I  suspect 
he  'd  have  gone  to  the  work-house,  or  over 
the  road,  and  been  working  out  a  sentence, 
before  this,  if  I  hadn't  known  him.  I  've  got- 
ten him  out  of  some  tough  scrapes." 

"Is  he  bad?"  asked  she,  in  a  troubled  way. 
"I  thought  he  was  only  poor,  and — and 
sick." 

"Sick,  is  he?" 

"Why  it — well,  yes — that  is — " 

"Well,  if  Joe's  sick,  why,  of  course,  I 
must  go  and  see  him.  Hold  her  to  the  shore, 
Sadie  ;  I  do  n't  like  wet  feet.  We  '11  pick  up 
the  bamboo  as  we  come  back." 

With  this,  he  threw  down  his  rod,  and 
stepped  carefully  into  the  boat. 

"Change  seats!"  said  he,  in  a  masterful 
way,  such  as  women  gloat  over  in  manly  men, 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  51 

yet,  nevertheless,  always  feel  bound  to  resent. 
He  saw  the  dawning  resistance  in  her  face. 

"I  can  pull  a  better  oar  than  you.  I  stud- 
ied Greek  at  college,  you  know ;  and  I  do  n't 
catch  so  many  crabs." 

"Crabs,  indeed!"  said  she,  scornfully,  but 
obeying,  and  surrendering  her  place.  Then 
a  sharp  inflection  came  into  her  voice,  as  he 
pulled  away:  "Look  where  you  are  going, 
College  Greek !" 

He  pulled  to  one  side,  just  in  time  to  avoid 
grazing  the  shore  of  a  little  island  to  their 
right. 

Then,  finding  himself  in  so  unexpectedly 
pleasant  a  situation,  out  in  a  boat  on  a  sum- 
mer stream  with  Sadie,  with  Langdon  and  the 
Judge  left  safely  behind,  he  felt  so  jubilant 
that  he  burst  into  a  stave  of  an  old  Scotch 
boating  song,  written  by  Sir  Walter  himself, 
beginning : 

"Row,  vassals,  row,  for  the  pride  of  the  Highlands! 
Stretch  to  your  oars,  for  the  ever-green  pine!" 

The  air  was  an  improvisation,  composed  of 
a  conglomeration  of  selections  from  sundry 
and  various  melodies  with  which  he  was  fa- 
miliar ;  but  his  voice  was  good,  and  the  strain 
was  not  without  music ;  especially  where, 
at  the  end,  it  vaulted  into  a  high,  clear 


52  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

tenor  on  the  call:  uHo! — iero !"  When 
he  repeated  it  a  second  time,  Sadie  had  caught 
the  refrain,  and  struck  in  with  a  well-modu- 
lated contralto ;  and  their  blended  voices  sent 
the  "  Ho  ! — iero  !"  in  a  strong,  sweet  chorus, 
echoing  far  over  the  quiet  waters. 

"This  is  what  the  French  would  call  jolt. 
This  seems  like  the  old  times  and  the  sum- 
mers gone  by.  I  do  n't  like  the  changes  that 
have  come  about  in  our  camaraderie" 

Miss  Spencer  dropped  her  eyes,  and  was 
discreetly  silent.  Her  eyes  were,  indeed,  "  blue 
as  Astarte's ;"  not  violet,  but  blue,  with  just 
that  subtle  greenish  hint  that  is  often  ob- 
served in  the  blue  eyes  of  people  who  think. 

There  had  been  a  time  when  she  had 
thought  more  about  Francis  Bartlett  than  had 
been  good  for  her  peace  of  mind ;  but  she  had 
taken  herself  well  in  hand,  and  resolved  to 
profit  by  Shakspeare's  advice,  and  "keep  in 
the  rear  of  her  affections." 

She  certainly  thought  he  could  have  but 
little  to  complain  of,  if  what  he  never  wished 
or  asked  for  should  be  diverted  in  another 
direction. 

When,  however,  he  reiterated,  "I  don't 
like  it,"  she  looked  up  quietly,  and  said : 

"Some  one  has  aptly  written  :  'No  summer 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  53 

ever  came  back ;  and  no  two  summers  were 
ever  alike.  Times  change,  and  people  change ; 
and  if  our  hearts  do  not  change  as  readily,  so 
much  the  worse  for  us.'  " 

"H'm!  I  never  was  one  of  those  whose 
friendships  (cast  off  their  bright  skins  yearly, 
like  the  snake.'  I  like  to  see  you  in  those 
pretty  colors.  They  are  so  much  more  effect- 
ive than  that  ugly  blue,  that  makes  you  look 
like  a  grenadier." 

"I  thought  you  were  above  such  frivolities. 
Earnest  women  can  not  spend  their  lives  in 
the  passive  display  of  shades  and  tints.  Life 
is  a  serious  business,  and  subdued  colors  best 
suit  its  moil  and  turmoil." 

"I  don't  consider  beauty  frivolous.  And 
as  to  that,  if  blue  is  more  religious  and  seri- 
ous than  red,  the  sunbeam  and  the  rainbow 
should  be  disintegrated,  and  their  red  and 
yellow  taken  out.  I  like  earnestness,  when 
it  proceeds  from  life's  lessons,  but  I  do  n't 
like  it  taken  up  as  a  fad  or  a  mission.  It  be- 
comes too  aggressive  and  offensive.  You  are 
too  young  to  go  to  dressing  yourself  like  a 
sister  of  charity.  Stick  to  the  bright  emblems 
of  youth  and  enthusiasm  and  courage.  You 
will  lose  heart  and  hope  soon  enough.  There 
is  a  long  stretch — prosy  midday  and  sober 


54  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

afternoon — between  now  and  night,  when 
your  serious  colors  will  be  more  in  place 
and  harmony.  There  will  be  '  the  burden  and 
the  heat,'  and 

'The  glimmer  of  twilight; 
Never  glad,  confident  morning  again.'" 

Sadie  was  touched,  in  spite  of  herself,  but 
she  would  not  show  it. 

"How  do  you  know  those  things?  You 
talk  like  a  book,  and  people  who  talk  in  that 
fashion  we  call  prigs." 

"I  'm  not  a  prig;  only  a  prophet." 

"Men  seem  to  think  that  woman's  sole 
excuse  for  being  is  to  look,  act,  and  dress  to 
please  them." 

"Certainly.  I  believe  with  Napoleon  that 
woman  was  made  for  man ;  man  for  himself, 
his  country,  and  glory." 

"I  half  believe  you  mean  it.  I  wonder 
you  do  n't  go  so  far  as  to  indorse  Confu- 
cius's  doctrine,  that  women  have  no  souls." 

"No,  not  so  bad  as  that,  Sarah.  I  am 
perfectly  willing  to  admit  that  they  have  souls, 
if  you,  on  the  other  hand,  will  let  them  have 
bodies  1" 


VJ. 

was   a   moment's  pause,  such  as 
usually  follows  the  entrance  of  a  couple 

of  combatants  within   the  space  of  the 

X 

arena. 

Miss  Spencer  would  fain  have  avoided  the 
contest,  but  it  was  bound  to  come ;  and  she 
braced  herself  to  meet  the  attack,  and  if  pos- 
sible, overcome  her  antagonist. 

"Well,"  said  she,  slowly,  "admitting,  for 
the  sake  of  argument,  that  they  have,  does  it 
follow  that  life's  aims  and  aspirations  should 
be  kept  entirely  on  the  level  of  bodily  needs? 
Should  all  ideality  and  spirituality  be  ex- 
cluded?" 

"I  do  not  object  to  ideality  as  an  inspira- 
tion for  the  development  of  a  principle  based 
upon  a  stable  foundation,  nor  to  spirituality 
which  spiritualizes,  uplifts,  and  refines ;  but 
nothing  which  is  a  mere  idealism,  built  on  a 
rotten  basis,  founded  on  falsehood,  has  any 
right  to  exist." 

She  became  a  trifle  paler,  but  her  voice 
was  quite  steady  as  she  said : 

"An  instance,  please!" 

55 


56  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"Well,  Sadie,  you  must  not  be  angry,  or 
think  I  am  personal  in  what  I  say.  My  ob- 
servations are  intended  for  application,  not  to 
you  particularly,  but  to  the  hybrid  organiza- 
tion with  which  you  have  become  entangled. 
The  ideality  and  spirituality  of  'Christian 
Science,'  so-called,  is  built  from  the  beginning 
upon  an  imposture  and  falsehood." 

"I  do  not  altogether  grasp  your  meaning." 
"  I  will  try  to  make  it  clear.  The  Christian 
scientists  are  careful  to  try  to  impress  upon  us 
the  similarity  of  their  cures  to  the  miraculous 
ones  of  Christ  and  his  disciples;  they  do  not 
discredit  those  former  cures — even  recount 
them.  Some  of  the  converts  to  your  doctrine 
are  professing  Christians  and  members  of 
Churches ;  but  do  they,  or  do  you,  consider 
that  your  creed  has  no  relation  to  the  New 
Testament  doctrines  of  the  incarnation,  atone- 
ment, and  resurrection?  None,  in  fact,  to  the 
Old  Testament,  with  its  doctrine  of  mono- 
theism and  history  of  the  creation?  None 
to  any  revealed  religion  believed  in  by  any 
body  of  people  with  whom  the  Bible,  or  what 
is  recorded  in  it,  has  anything  special  to 
do,  whether  they  be  Jew  or  Gentile?  All 
God!  It  is  Pantheism.  It  is  Buddhism.  It 
is  in  no  sense  or  particular  Christian.  One 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  57 

only  needs  to  dip,  here  and  there,  into  the 
pages  of  your  scriptures  to  determine  this  fact. 
In  them,  Christ,  like  all  the  rest  of  us,  is  de- 
nied a  personal  existence  in  the  flesh.  Does 
not  the  'Platform'  of  your  sect,  laid  broadly 
down  in  '  Science  and  Health,'  Vol.  II — O,  you 
see  a  lawyer  must  have  a  tenacious  memory, 
and  retain  facts  as  they  are! — say  that  'God 
is  supreme,  the  only  life,  substance,  and  intel- 
ligence of  the  universe  and  man;'  that  'if  a 
portion  of  the  Infinite  could  enter  limits,  that 
portion  would  lose  the  nature  of  Deity?'  Tell 
me,  now,  isn't  that  sweeping  away  the  world's 
Redeemer,  the  Christian's  Savior,  the  impreg- 
nable Rock  upon  which  the  entire  Christian 
system  is  built,  with  the  besom  of  destruction? 
"  You  slay  Christ,  you  crucify  him  as  cruelly 
and  unquestionably  as  did  his  enemies  of  old, 
and  then  try  to  masquerade  in  the  seamless 
garment  for  which  you  cast  lots  at  the  foot  of 
the  cross.  You  deny  him — he  is  not  in  your 
entire  theology — the  Christ  of  the  Bible  ;  and 
yet  you  would  put  on  the  robe  of  revered  re- 
spectability with  which  his  religion  is  almost 
everywhere  received  to-day,  and,  in  it,  deceive 
the  world  as  to  your  claims  to  Christian  con- 
sideration, while  you  climb  up  some  other 
way,  to  enter  in  as  a  thief  and  a  robber." 


58  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

She  put  up  her  hand  to  stay  the  impetuous 
torrent  of  his  words.  "Listen!"  she  said. 
"  Hear  what  one  of  our  writers  has  said  on 
that  subject:  'He  was  the  son  of  God;  and 
what  does  it  mean  to  be  the  son  of  God?  God 
is  good — hence  good  is  God.  So  good  was  the 
creator  of  everything;  so  good  was,  is,  and 
will  be  the  Heavenly  Father  of  all  his  cre- 
ations.'"* 

He  looked  at  her  wonderingly  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  burst  into  a  scoffing  laugh. 

"How  lucid  a  definition!  How  consoling, 
how  full  of  comfort  to  the  lost  and  doubting 
soul,  sick  of  its  miseries  and  its  sins,  seeking 
where  He  may  be  found  who  is  the  express 
image  of  the  Father — looking  for  the  proof 
that  he  was  miraculously  born  to  save  it  from 
its  sins! 

"You  claim,  I  believe,  that  God  being  good, 
it  would  have  been  contrary  to  all  laws  for 
him  to  have  produced  anything  unlike  him- 
self. According  to  that,  all  men  are  equally, 
and  in  the  same  sense,  the  sons  of  God.  The 
only  difference  seems  to  be  that  the  rest  of 
them  sinned,  and  'came  short  of  his  glory.' 
How  happens  it,  then,  if  there  is  'no  evil,' 


*"  Mind-healing," — Kate  Taylor. 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  59 

that  they  ever  sinned,  or,  that  this  other  cre- 
ation— Christ — who  was,  in  no  different  sense, 
his  son,  did  not  sin  likewise?  And  if  all  hu- 
man creatures  are  but  mere  emanations  from 
God,  who  'is  the  only  life,  substance,  and  in- 
telligence of  the  universe,'  how  comes  it  that 
these  emanations  from  a  being  all-good  are 
from  earliest  childhood  and  infancy  prone  to 
evil?  That  you  can  scarcely  begin  early 
enough  in  life  with  Christian  teaching  to  avoid 
the  necessity  of  being  obliged  to  overthrow 
and  subvert  evil  ideas  and  practices?  One 
would  expect,  if  the  human  soul  is  a  direct 
emanation  from  Him,  to  find  it,  when  but  a 
short  time  released  from  contact  with  his  great 
personality,  strong  in  his  might,  dimpled  with 
his  touch,  pure  with  his  supreme  purity." 

"Are  not  children  innocent?" 

"Yes,  while  incapable,  through  ignorance 
and  physical  disability,  of  being  sinful.  I 
don't  know  how  it  was  with  you,  but  one  of 
the  first  things  I  remember  concerning  myself 
was  of  doing  something  I  ought  not  to  have 
done.  No;  I'll  amend  that  statement:  The 
first  thing  I  remember  was  the  desire  to  do 
wrong,  which  preceded  the  act. 

"Tell  me,  Sadie,  do  you  never  feel  afraid 
that  your  Christ,  being  different  from  the  rest 


60  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

of  mankind  only  in  degree,  not  kind,  may, 
after  all,  not  have  been  what  you  think  he 
was?  If  Christ's  mighty  works  can  be  dupli- 
cated by  you,  to-day,  so  full  of  ignorance, 
faults,  errors,  sins,  as  you  are,  and  as  all  human 
creatures  are,  how  do  those  works  attest  his 
purity  or  his  power?  He  but  shared  in  the 
common  gift  of  God  to  man.  How  can  you  be 
sure,  even,  knowing  what  you  do  of  humanity 
in  its  present  stage,  and  in  that  stage  when  he 
was  here  among  men,  that  he  differed  even 
in  degree;  that  he  was  not  a  great  impostor? 
Nothing  could  be  more  probable  than  this,  if 
your  'platform'  states  a  fundamental  truth  of 
your  doctrine.  I  refer  to  that  passage  which 
declares  that ( if  the  infinite  could  enter  limits, 
that  portion  would  lose  the  nature  of  Deity.' 
So  you  see,  by  your  own  reasoning,  or,  rather 
that  to  which  you  subscribe,  that  our  Savior — 
the  Word  that  was  made  flesh,  that  was  orig- 
inally with  God,  and  that  was  God — can  not, 
under  any  rational  construction  be  made  to 
do  duty  for  the  Christ  of  Christian  Science." 

She  fidgeted  in  her  seat  a  moment,  then  re- 
plied : 

" '  Made  flesh !'  We  hold,  as  you  well  know, 
that  the  flesh  is  a  'very  evident  seeming,'  and 
the  Bible,  itself,  tells  us  that  he  came  in  'the 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  6 1 

likeness  of  sinful  flesh.'  As  you  are  aware, 
the  Bible  is  an  Oriental  work,  often  dealing 
in  hyperboles  of  expression,  by  means  of  which 
a  seeming  might  very  easily  be  confounded 
with  a  being,  in  figures  of  speech." 

"  But,  how  could  he  be  in  the  likeness  of 
what  did  not  exist?  The  Scripture  hyperboles 
are  used  in  the  poetical  comparisons  of  the 
Bible;  never  in  its  history.  God  is  recorded 
as  having  made  a  personal  man  out  of  the 
dust  of  the  earth.  Through  what  gradations, 
we  can  only  judge.  He  did  not  throw  off  an 
emanation  to  be  again  absorbed  into  himself. 
He  made  a  personal  man;  and  I  may  believe 
it  and  like  it,  or  I  may  disbelieve  it  and  dis- 
like it,  but  the  Bible  says  that  this  soul 
breathed  into  man  is  to  be  disposed  of,  finally, 
according  to  man's  conduct.  If  it  is  in  ac- 
cordance with  God's  law  and  Christ's  teach- 
ing, it  (a  separate,  individual  soul)  will  go 
where  God  is.  If  not,  this  devil  you  deny  will 
take  charge  of  it.  So,  you  will  observe,  that 
neither  the  inception,  trend,  nor  outcome  of 
your  theology  is  Christian.  If  man  is  but  an 
emanation  from  God,  and  God  can  not  be  con- 
fined in  a  human  body,  and  there  is  no  human 
body  anyhow  to  be  confined  in,  man  does  not 
exist,  and  can  not  be  held  accountable.  And 


62  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

Christianity  teaches  that  he  does  exist,  and  is 
accountable.  You  must  admit  there  is  a  'very 
evident  seeming.'  " 

"The  Scriptures  somewhere  say  that  'God 
is,  and  is  to  be,  All  in  all.' " 

"  Meaning  that  he  is  and  ever  will  be  Ab- 
solute Ruler  over  all,  and  furnishes  the  'per- 
sistent force,'  sustaining  all,  that  the  Agnostics 
talk  about.  Flora  Hollister  lent  me  one  of 
her  books  the  other  day — Flora  wants  to 
convert  me — and  I  found  that  the  definition 
of  Adam  was  'error,  falsity,  the  belief  in 
original  sin,  sickness,  and  death,'  and  a  great 
deal  more  to  the  same  effect.  Now  if  that 
was  what  Adam  was,  what  caused  Eve  to  be- 
lieve he  was  a  personal  man?  She,  at  least, 
had  none  of  the  influence  of  the  thoughts  of 
those  around  her,  bearing  upon  her  mind  and 
coloring  its  opinions,  nor  yet  that  of  preced- 
ing generations." 

"But  does  not  the  subsequent  history  of 
the  race  prove  that  that  is  just  what  Adam 
was?"  asked  she,  triumphantly. 

"Not  if,  as  you  say,  there  is  no  heredity; 
not  if  we  carry  out  the  deductions  to  be  drawn 
from  the  premises  these  so-called  Scientists 
have  laid  down.  If  there  is  no  matter,  and 
all  spirit  is  God,  why  then  Adam,  not  having 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  63 

any  body  and  his  soul  not  being  his  own,  it 
simply  was  God,  not  Adam,  who  was  the 
author  of  'error,  falsity,  the  belief  in  original 
sin,  sickness,  and  death.'  Is  that  the  God  of 
the  Bible?" 

"About  Adam:  To  material  sense  he  was 
matter ;  to  spiritual  sense,  an  idea  of  God's — 
an  expression  of  his  being.  Regarding  this 
existence  of  evil  which  came  through  Adam, 
in  the  language  of  one  of  our  authors,  'the 
answer  to  this  question  is  of  little  importance ; 
it  is  a  waste  of  time.'  "* 

"A  good  way  to  dispose  of  the  question! 
But  I  did  not  expect  an  answer  to  that  to 
which  nobody  can  really  reply;  especially 
that  sect  which  disposes  of  the  devil  with  as 
great  facility  as  it  makes  way  with  the  flesh. 
What  I  started  out  to  prove  to  you  was,  that 
you  are  not  Christians  and  not  Scientists. 
Your  platform  maintains  that  '  there  is  neither 
a  personal  Deity,  a  personal  devil,  nor  a  per- 
sonal man.'  If  no  personal  Deity,  Christ  is 
not,  to  you,  God  manifest  in  the  flesh.  You 
are  not,  then,  Christian ;  for  in  him,  says  the 
Bible,  'dwelleth  all  the  fullness  of  the  God- 
head bodily.' 

"That  you  are  not  Scientists,  proceeding 

*"  Mind-Healing;  or,  Self  hood  Lost  in  Godhood,"  p.  4. 


64  ffIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

upon  actual,  indisputable  knowledge,  goes 
without  proving.  If  you  give  the  definition 
of  science — which  is  'truth  ascertained,'  'pene- 
trative and  comprehensive  information' — to 
your  mystical  theology,  it  is  a  mistaken  as- 
sumption. If  to  the  inner  personal  influence 
you  exert  in  your  endeavor  to  heal,  it  is  an 
open  question  as  to  whether  any  one  of  you 
could  give  a  lucid,  substantial  account  of  how 
such  cures  as  are  brought  about  by  you  really 
occur.  Undoubtedly  it  all  comes  out  of  the 
resolute  withdrawal  of  the  mind  of  the  patient 
from  contemplation  of  his  own  ailments. 
That  will  account  for  the  cure  of  mental  and 
nervous  difficulties.  Organic  diseases  you  do 
not  cure.  And  so  far  as  the  ignoring  of  nerv- 
ous troubles  by  the  patient  is  concerned,  phy- 
sicians knew  and  acted  upon  its  value  long 
time  ago." 

"  But  how  account  for  the  cure  of  cases  con- 
trolled by  absent  treatment?" 

"I  account  for  them  by  declaring  such  a 
thing  the  most  arrant  and  insufferable  non- 
sense !" 

She  colored  redly,  and  the  green  sugges- 
tion in  her  eyes  preponderated  over  the  blue ; 
but  she  controlled  herself,  and  replied : 

"  Facts  will  not  bear  you  out  in  that  state- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  65 

ment.  Many  people,  who  did  not  know  they 
were  under  treatment,  have  been  reached  and 
cured  in  this  manner." 

"The  world  is  wide,  Sadie,  and  God  and 
man  have  many  resources.  There  are  ex- 
citant causes  in  a  human  mind  and  body  in 
Omaha,  that  some  alleged  healer  in  New  York 
can  know  nothing  about.  As  to  whether  so- 
called  '  absent  treatment '  from  New  York  cured 
that  disease  in  Omaha,  is  'absolutely  unknow- 
able.' Such  evidence  as  could  be  produced 
in  favor  of  a  case  like  that,  would  not  stand 
in  any  court  of  justice,  or  weigh  with  any  jury 
under  the  sun.  The  sole  value  of  'treatment' 
of  this  kind  does  and  must  lie  in  the  effect 
produced  upon  the  patient's  mind ;  and  if  the 
patient  is  unconscious  of  any  treatment,  there 
can  be  no  effect." 

"You  say  my  statement  is  not  susceptible 
of  proof.  Very  well ;  we  will  leave  that,  then, 
for  the  present.  But  I  take  issue  with  you  on 
the  assertion  that  we  do  not  cure  organic  dis- 
eases. You  know,  of  course,  that  I  am  not  a 
fair  sample  to  judge  by.  My  practice  has 
been  small  and  limited  as  yet;  but  I*  have 
seen  some  of  our  own  townspeople  cured  of 
liver  complaints,  bronchial  troubles,  and  rheu- 
matism; and  one  man  testifies  that  he  has 

6 


66  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

been  relieved  of  a  ringing  in  his  ears  that  had 
lasted  for  two  years,  and  threatened  to  destroy 
his  hearing." 

"Perhaps;  but,  as  I  said  before,  you  are 
not  real  physicians,  and  you  do  not  know  what 
other  causes  may  have  been  at  work  in  com- 
bating those  troubles.  Taking  one's  attention 
off  a  pain,  rheumatic  or  otherwise,  often  re- 
lieves it;  and  if  a  man  can  make  up  his 
mind — I  say  if  he  can — that  he  has  no  mus- 
cles or  nerves,  and,  consequently,  they  can 
not  be  rheumatic,  he  has  arrived  at  a  condi- 
tion of  existence  that  even  rheumatism  will 
not  flourish  in.  A  man  becomes  very  peculiar 
under  such  circumstances.  As  to  the  ringing 
ear,  the  disease  was  probably  in  the  auditory 
nerve;  and  the  history  of  cases  like  that,  I 
once  heard  an  aurist  say,  shows  that  the  mo- 
ment the  mind  begins  to  dwell  on  it,  the  ear 
begins  to  ring.  If  the  mind  can  be  amused, 
entertained,  and  made  to  dwell  upon  something 
else,  sometimes  the  ear  will  not  ring  for  weeks ; 
but  let  the  person  sit  down  at  the  end  of  that 
time  and  think  about  it,  and  it  is  as  tuneful  as 
ever.  You  heard  him  testify  on  an  'off'  day. 
The  entire  structure  of  your  faith  is  built  on 
nebulous  foundations." 

"  Of  course,"  said  she,  smiling  a  little  con- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  67 

strainedly,  "if  you  impeach  the  testimony,  and 
there  is  no  umpire  to  arbitrate,  I  have  nothing 
further  to  say.  I  would  like  to  ask  you, 
though,  why  you  speak  so  disdainfully  of 
Buddhism  ?  Whac  could  have  been  more 
beautiful  or  elevating  than  the  religion  which 
Buddha  taught? — which  he  experienced  when 
he  said,  'I,  Gautama  Buddha,  devote  myself 
to  righteousness,  so  that  I  may  arrive  at  the 
highest  Nirvana.'  Quotations  I  have  read 
from  old  Buddhistic  verse  are  very  like  in 
sentiment  to  the  Christian  hymns  of  to-day, 
stating  the  fleetness  of  life  and  the  rest  of  the 
righteous  after  death." 

"Yes,"  said  he,  dryly,  "providing  they  es- 
cape ill  Karma  and  re-birth, — are  absorbed,  as 
the  Buddhist  offspring  (the  advocates  of  Chris- 
tian Science)  hope  to  be,  in  the  All-good. 
Buddha,  according  to  his  light,  taught  a  beau- 
tiful philosophy  of  self-restraint  and  renunci- 
ation— gave  warning,  with  no  uncertain  sound, 
that 

'Our  deeds  follow  us  from  afar, 
And  what  we  have  been,  makes  us  what  we  are.' 

But  when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  why 
seek  truth  in  that  which  is  only  in  part? 
Why  go  back  to  the  morning  twilight  when 
searching  for  truth,  when  its  full  sun  has 


68  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

arisen?  All  the  old  philosophers  can  shame 
us  with  the  renunciatory  doctrines  upon  which 
they  built  up  lives  of  austere  rectitude.  Do  n't 
stop  with  Buddha.  Go  through  the  entire  list. 
All  groping  in  the  darkness  for  the  God  we 
know.  Aurelius  Antoninus  had  meditations 
on  virtue  that  thrill  even  the  Christian  soul. 
What  gave  Socrates  the  power  calmly  to  drink 
the  hemlock  bowl?  -I  do  not  disdain  Buddha's 
truths — only  point  out  his  errors.  Do  you 
refuse  to  see  the  similarity  between  those 
errors  and  the  doctrine  which  you  profess, 
comparing  the  two  ?  Here  is  an  excerpt  from 
Buddhism  very  much  to  the  point :  '  So  through 
endless  ages  yet  to  come,  discharging  these 
sacred  duties,  all  sentient  creatures,  united  at 
length  with  the  divine  essence,  shall  obtain 
supreme  wisdom — the  state  that  admits  of  no 
birth,  the  wisdom  of  Buddha  himself.'  But 
since  you  may  have  a  prejudice  against  the 
title  of  Buddhism,  why  not  adopt  that  of  Spi- 
nozism?  Although  I  do  n't  see  why  you  should 
be  thus  prejudiced,  when  Arnold's  '  L/ight  of 
Asia '  has  been  recommended  as  a  poem  to  be 
read  ( in  the  light  of  this  truth.'  Spinoza, 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  taught  that  God 
'  is  the  cause  of  all  things  that  exist,  but  not 
a  different  being  from  them ;  that  there  is  only 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  69 

6ne  Being  and  one  nature;'  and,  as  in  Chris- 
tian science,  the  Deity  is  made  sole  agent  in 
all  evil  as  well  as  good.  One  of  these  teach- 
ers was  a  Hindoo,  the  other  an  Amsterdam 
Jew ;  bnt  what  is  there  in  the  Pantheistic  in- 
struction of  either  to  which  you  dare  attach 
the  title  Christian?" 

"  What 's  in  a  name?"  queried  she,  lightly. 
"  It's  the  doctrine,  not  the  name." 

"  Not  much  in  the  name,  unless  it  be  used 
to  convey  a  falsehood,  which  in  this  case  it  is. 
Why,  if  you  were  to  go  back  to  Orpheus,  the 
earliest  Grecian  pantheist,  who  called  the  en- 
tire world  the  'body  of  God,'  and  its  several 
parts  his  members;  or  Aristotle,  who  agreed 
with  him,  claiming  the  co-eternity  of  God  and 
matter,  you  find  no  such  monstrous  inconsis- 
tencies as  your  doctrine  teaches.  Plain  pan- 
theism is  entitled  to  a  degree  of  respect  which 
Christian  science  can  not  and  does  not  com- 
mand from  the  thinking  mind.  When  you 
say,  as  I  have  been  reading  in  your  creed,  that 
'the  devil,  or  evil,  is  darkness,  and  Good,  or 
God,  the  Infinite  Mind,  is  but  another  name 
for  light,'  wherein  do  you  differ  from  those 
whose  names  I  have  mentioned  ?" 

"But,  Francis,  I  have  been  looking  more 
at  the  works  we  do,  than  at  all  this  back- 


70  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

ground  you  have  been  sketching  in.  You 
should  believe  our  cause  to  be  good  'for  the 
very  works'  sake.'  " 

"The  'works,'  as  you  call  them,  look  spe- 
cious, where  they  appear  at  all ;  but  we  have 
an  infallible  standard  by  which  to  pronounce 
judgment  on  them.  The  great  apostle  of 
Christianity,  in  writing  to  the  Roman  Gentiles, 
tells  them  that,  '  if  the  first  fruit  be  holy,  the 
lump  is  also  holy ;  and  if  the  root  be  holy,  so 
are  the  branches.'  Now,  the  'first  fruit'  ap- 
pearing in  your  platform  says  that,  '  if  a  portion 
of  the  Infinite  could  enter  limits,  that  portion 
would  lose  the  nature  of  Deity.'  That,  in  it- 
self, proves  the  'lump'  not  Christian,  and  the 
works  arising  from  some  other  source,  super- 
induced by  some  other  power.  Why,  you 
surely  remember  how  Pharaoh's  magicians 
imitated  the  miracles  wrought  through  Moses? 
Can  not  you  see  that  you  have  been  making 
unwarranted  attempts  at  grafting  the  branches 
of  a  wild  olive-tree  on  the  trunk  and  root  to 
which  its  very  'first  fruit'  is  entirely  alien? 
I  will  tell  you  what  I  think  of  these  'works,' 
and  what  most  of  the  relapses  and  deaths, 
occurring  after  the  patients  have  been  pro- 
nounced cured  by  them,  go  far  toward  proving. 
I  believe  it  is  along  this  particular  line  that 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  71 

Satan  finds  one  of  the  grandest  opportunities 
of  all  the  ages  in  which  to  appear  as  an  angel  of 
light,  and  deceive,  if  it  were  possible,  the 
very  elect.  I  think  these  '  works '  are,  for  the 
most  part,  but  a  'very  evident  seeming.'  Only 
one  word  more,  and  that  is  this:  Be  careful 
what  you  do !  I  am  not  a  very  spiritual  man, 
and  a  poor  sort  of  Christian,  as  Christians 
go ;  but  I  should  hesitate  about  rejecting  the 
Christian  religion  for  Pantheism,  or  about 
grafting  on  to  it  something  so  foreign  to  that 
which  Jesus  and  his  disciples  taught.  Your 
gospel  is  very  different  from  that  enunciated 
by  Paul,  who  said :  '  But  though  we,  or  an 
angel  from  heaven,  preach  any  other  gospel 
unto  you,  than  that  .which  we  have  preached 
unto  you,  let  him  be' — 'accursed,'  the  Old 
Version  has  it ;  '  anathema,'  the  New.  Think 
about  that,  Sadie." 

A  silence  that  could  almost  be  felt — so  pro- 
found was  it — settled  upon  the  occupants  of 
the  little  boat. 

Sadie  sat  unusually  erect ;  offended  pride, 
or  wounded  feeling — it  was  difficult  to  tell 
which — quite  discernible  in  both  her  attitude 
and  expression. 

But,  whichever  it  might  have  been,  Francis 
Bartlett  could  not  forbear  a  sentiment  of  ad- 


72  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

miration  for  the  self-control  which  she  had 
exercised  throughout  the  interview,  and  still 
manifested,  although,  as  he  considered,  de- 
feated in  the  argument.  He  did  not  stop  to 
think  that  perhaps  if  the  talking  had  been 
more  equalized,  she  might  have  been  able  to 
give  a  little  better  showing  to  her  side  of  the 
case,  deplorable  as  it  looked. 

They  had  been  very  slowly  moving  down 
the  stream  as  they  talked,  but  Mr.  Bartlett 
now  quickened  the  rate  of  their  speed  by  bend- 
ing to  the  work  with  considerable  assumption 
of  energy. 

How  straight  his  back! — how  square  the 
set  of  his  slightly-lifted  shoulders  !  He  swung 
evenly  from  the  seat  as  if  hinged  there. 
There  was  rhythm,  poetry,  beauty,  in  his 
movement. 

After  a  few  moments'  silence,  Miss  Spencer 
spoke  again : 

"There  is  one  thing  I  wish  to  say  to  you. 
My  visit  to  the  Epperts  is  not  altogether  of 
the  nature  of  a  relief  expedition,  as  I  told 
you.  There  is  something  else  connected  with 
it.  I  do  not  wish  to  give  you  a  false  im- 
pression." 

"Well,  if  you  did  give  a  wrong  impression, 
probably  you  knew  you  had  Scripture  warrant 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR,  73 

for  it.  You  know  when  the  Lord  sent  Sam- 
uel down  to  Bethlehem  to  anoint  David,  he 
told  him  to  make  Saul's  mind  easy  by  giving 
out  only  a  part  of  the  reason  for  which  he 
was  going." 

He  felt,  when  he  said  this,  that  it  was  very 
probable  that  she  did  n't  know ;  that  perhaps 
she  had  never  read  it  for  herself,  and  if  she 
had  heard  it  from  the  pulpit,  had  forgotten. 
I  think  that,  mixed  up  with  other  motives,  he 
was  trying  to  impress  upon  her  that  he  was 
rather  bright  and  knowing,  and  possessed  of 
considerable  information  upon  various  subjects. 
If  so,  it  must  have  been  a  little  mortifying  to 
have  had  her  remark : 

"Yes;  you  said  that,  I  remember,  in  your 
last  campaign  speech,  your  plea  in  the  Gun- 
ning case,  and  one  or  two  others  that  I 
recall." 

"O  come,  now!  Was  it  so  bad  as  that? 
I  did  n't  know  I  ever  sacrificed  that  red  heifer 
in  public  but  once." 

"What  I  wished  to  say  was,  that — " 

"You  are  going  to  doctor  Joe?" 

"  No,  sir !  I  have  no  masculine  patients,  at 
present.  I  do  not  go  to  'doctor'  any  one; 
but  his  little  daughter  is  lying,  seemingly, 
very  ill.  She  is  a  patient  of  Mrs.  Morris's — 

7 


74  ff IS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

one  of  the  graduates  of  our  class — and  Mrs. 
Morris  was  obliged  to  go  East  on  account  of 
her  father's  illness ;  he  has  since  died.  She 
desired  me  to  take  charge  of  the  case,  but  I 
declined.  She  will  give  her  absent  treatment ; 
but  she  asked  me  if  I  would  not  come  and 
see  her  sometimes,  and  talk  to  her,  and — well, 
try  to  encourage  her.  It  is  no  falsehood, 
however,  about  their  needs.  Joe,  as  you  call 
him,  has — has  the  belief  that  he  has  inflam- 
matory rheumatism.  He  has  not  worked  for 
a  long  time,  and  they  are  very  poor." 

"  I  'm  sorry  for  him,  I  'm  sure ;  but  the 
hen-roosts  in  this  part  of  the  country  are  not 
so  likely  to  suffer  while  he  suffers.  What  is 
the  matter  with  the  child?" 

"  'Liza?    Why,  the — the  people  around  her 
must  have  impressions  that  affect  her  concern- 
ing heredity.     Her  mother — Joe's  wife  is  her 
stepmother — died,  seemingly  of  lung  trouble. 
'Liza  seems  to  have  a  cough,  and — the  usual 
symptoms  that  go  with  it.     I — " 
"  The  child  has  consumption." 
Miss  Spencer  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"No  wonder,"  said  she,  "  that  people  think 
they  are  sick  and  die,  so  long  as  the  world's 
thought  clings  to  a  belief  in  evil  and  sick- 
ness, and  is  expressed  in  so  bald  a  manner." 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  75 

"Who  is  Mrs.  Morris?  Not  the  tailor's 
widow?" 

"I  believe  he  once  did  that  kind  of  work, 
but  not  for  some  years  before  his  death." 

"  I  know  whom  you  mean.  A  good,  ami- 
able, motherly  creature,  without  one  grain  of 
scientific  or  medical  knowledge  in  her  whole 
make-up.  '  Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  de- 
fend us !'  Do  you  mean  that  'Liza  is  lying 
there  in  bed,  dying  of  consumption,  and  that 
all  she  has  to  relieve  or  help  her  is  the  '  ab- 
sent treatment'  of  a  woman  like  that?" 

"  Like  that !  What  do  you  intend  me  to 
infer  from  that?" 

"  Why,  nothing  against  her  character,  nor 
her  ordinary  grade  of  intelligence,  but  a  very 
great  deal  against  her  pretensions  as  a  healer. 
Mrs.  Morris  to  do  away  with  the  physicians! 

'  Can  such  things  be, 
And  overcome  us  like  a  summer  cloud, 
Without  our  special  wonder  ?' " 

"We  will  not  discuss  Mrs.  Morris,  if  you 
please.  I  see  we  are  almost  at  our  stopping- 
place.  There !  Bring  up  alongside  that  flat 
rock  to  the  left." 

When  he  had  helped  her  out,  Francis  Bart- 
lett  lifted  from  the  bottom  boards  of  the  boat 
a  basket  and  bundles  of  supplies,  and  then 


76  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

took  the  string  of  fish  in  the  hand  on  which 
he  wore  the  sard  ring  with  the  knight's  head 
in  intaglio.  As  he  did  so,  Miss  Spencer  saw 
that  the  palm  of  it  was  very  red,  and  looked 
suspiciously  as  if  a  blister  had  been  raised 
upon  it.  He  had  worn  no  gloves,  and  his 
hands  were  tender  from  disuse. 

"  This  way,"  said  she ;  "  I  will  follow." 


|HE  Epperts,  en  famille,  were  at  home. 
The  master  of  the  house,  just  able  to 
hobble  about  and  warm  his  acidulated 
blood  in  the  outdoor  air,  was  sitting  out- 
side his  small  whitewashed,  vine-covered  log 
house,  on  which  the  morning-glory  blossoms 
of  purple  and  pink  were  still  half  open.  It 
'was  one  of  those  houses  still  to  be  found  in 
the  rural  districts  of  some  of  the  Middle  and 
Western  States,  with  the  chimney  attached  on 
the  outside,  looking  as  if  the  chimney  had 
first  been  built  and  the  house  accommodated 
to  it. 

"  Rather  modern,"  remarked  the  young  man 
as  they  approached.  "  It  looks  as  if  here  might 
be  a  center  and  school  of  advanced  thought 
and  cultured  opinions." 

"The  disciples  you  talk  so  much  about 
were  ignorant  fishermen." 

"Yes;  following  a  teacher,  a  leader,  who 
'spake  as  never  man  spake.'  They  were  not 
reconstructing  for  themselves  a  religion  and 
immortality  out  of  their  own  ignorance  and 
the  ignorance  of  the  ancients." 

77 


78  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"Joe"  sat  in  one  chair,  with  his  lame  leg 
carefully  deposited  upon  another  in  front  of 
him.  He  held  in  one  hand  a  stout  hickory 
stick,  which  served  the  dual  purpose  of  as- 
sisting him  in  locomotion  and  as  a  means  of 
self-defense  from  the  intrusion  of  any  and  all 
of  the  two  or  three  half-clad,  tow-headed  chil- 
dren engaged  in  a  game  of  "tag,"  rushing  in 
and  out  of  a  thriving  grove  of  sunflowers 
which  surrounded  the  doorway. 

He  looked  like  a  man  who  had  drunk 
whisky  until  he  had  become  what  is  known, 
in  common  parlance,  as  an  "old  soak."  His 
coat  was  ragged,  his  trousers  glazed  and 
shiny ;  and  his  soiled  check-shirt,  open  at  the 
throat,  showed  a  flabby  neck  and  hirsute 
breast.  Upon  the  whole,  Mr.  Eppert's  ap- 
pearance might  be  denominated  as  unsavory. 

"You  'tarnal  young  'uns,"  cried  he,  as  one 
of  the  children  ran  against  the  chair  on  which 
his  foot  was  resting,  "ef  yer  don't  make 
tracks  from  here,  I  '11  brain  the  lot  of  ye !" 

"This  must  be  nice  for  'Liza,"  said 
Francis. 

"  Polly !  Polly !"  called  he,  as  he  saw  Mr. 
Bartlett  approaching,  loaded  with  supplies,  and 
closely  followed  by  Miss  Spencer. 

A  lean,  lank  woman,   in  a    faded    calico 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  79 

dress,  from  which  all  the  color  had  been 
washed  in  some  long-forgotten  time,  came, 
and  put  her  head  out  of  the  door. 

She  had  coarse,  straight  black  hair,  which 
had  first  been  tied  with  a  shoe-string  at  the 
back,  with  the  tags  in  full  view ;  then  twisted 
and  put  up  with  that  reminiscence  of  the  past, 
a  tuck-comb. 

Her  complexion  was  like  that  of  women 
who  live  in  the  dry  air  and  constantly  blow- 
ing wind  of  the  far  West — brown,  wrinkled, 
and  dry,  like  parchment. 

Her  eye  had  a  vague,  speculative,  far-off 
look.  Francis  and  Sadie  both  felt  as  if  she 
was  giving  too  long  a  range  to  her  glance  to 
focus  it  fully  on  them. 

"This  yere  is  Lawyer  Bartlett,  old  'ooman," 
said  Joe,  performing  the  ceremony  of  intro- 
duction, "an'  I  reckon  yer  know  as  who  the 
young  'ooman  is.  I  've  seen  her  yere  before." 

"  Why,  howdy,  sir !  Howdy,  Miss  Spencer ! 
It 's  a  poor  place  you  've  come  to,  but  walk 
right  in.  The  world 's  a-movin',  and  '  the 
rich  and  the  poor  meet  together,  and  the  Lord 
is  the  Maker  of  them  all,'  "  said  she,  piously. 
"Jest  aige  around  behind  Josiah's  cheer. 
His  laig  is  like  yer  eye  to  tech  it,  it 's  that 
swelled  an'  sore." 


80  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"Ye 're  welcome,  sir;  and  you  too,  ma'am," 
said  Josiah,  with  his  eyes  on  the  basket  and 
bundles  and  the  fish.  "Didn't  expect  ter 
have  the  honor,  sir,  of  receivin'  you  under 
this  yere  'umble  roof."  And  he  extended  a 
spare,  yellow  hand,  with  knotted  and  distorted 
joints. 

Francis  took  k  gingerly,  but  Sadie  acted 
on  her  theory  of  "no  matter,"  and  failed  to 
see  it  at  all ;  though  her  own  pretty,  slender 
hands  were  well  protected  from  possible 
contact  with  long-wristed  gloves  of  un- 
dressed kid. 

"D'ye  'low  you  kin  sqeeze  a-past  me? 
It 's  like  movin'  a  meetin'-house  ter  move 
me !  I  use'  ter  tell  Polly  she 's  set  in  her 
ways;  but  she  sez  I'm  'setter,'  now.  Polly 
likes  ter  have  her  little  joke.  He  !  he  !  he  !" 

The  idea  of  a  joke  in  connection  with 
Polly  was  an  incongruous  one,  as  she  gazed 
at  them  with  that  complacent,  melancholy, 
lack-of-focus  gaze. 

They  "aiged  a-past"  and  into  the  main 
room  of  the  house,  utilized  as  kitchen,  parlor, 
and  bedroom  for  the  entire  family,  with  the 
exception  of  'Liza,  who  was  as  neatly  and 
comfortably  arranged  for  as  the  circumstances 
of  the  case  admitted,  in  the  room  beyond. 


HIS  COUSIN,  ^THE  DOCTOR.  8 1 

Even  this  apartment,  despite  its  many  and 
various  uses,  was  scrupulously  clean. 

In  waging  a  war  of  extermination  against 
dirt,  Mrs.  Eppert  always  stopped  short  of 
Josiah.  Something  seemed  to  tell  her  that 
ammunition  made  use  of  in  that  direction 
would  be  wasted. 

Francis  Bartlett  made  a  very  polite  little 
speech  to  Mrs.  Eppert  in  presenting  the  par- 
cels and  fish,  and  said  (with  as  much  truth 
as  is  usually  to  be  sifted  out  of  such  re- 
marks) that  he  was  "sorry  to  see  Joe  so 
broken  up." 

"  Thank  ye,  sir.  It 's  jest  like  Miss  Spencer 
to  bring  them  things — jest  like  her;  an'  the 
Lord  knows  that  there  's  need  enough  of  'em. 
Yes,  Josiah  's  been  porely  all  spring,  'n  so  far 
this  summer.  Tears  like  we  can  't  get  him 
out  of  the  notion  of  it.  Butterworth  says  it 's 
the  sigh-attic  nerve  that 's  out  o'  kelter ;  but 
I  say  that  what  Josiah  needs  is  to  take  his 
mind  offer  hisself.  I  says  to  him  this  morn- 
ing, says  I,  'Josiah,  you  must  take  your  mind 
offer  yourself,  if  you  ever  'low  ter  sense  it  that 
ye  're  well.'  " 

Josiah  broke  in,  from  the  open  doorway : 

"  Polly  's  got  a  great  jaw  on  'er.  I  'low 
she  c'd  talk  all  day.  But  how  in  creation,  if 


82  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

you  '11  excuse  me,  Miss,  can  a  feller  take  his 
mind  offer  hisself,  when  he  feels  like  he  's  all 
tied  up  in  knots,  an'  the  devil 's  a-pinchin' 
him  with  red-hot  pinchers?  How  kin  ye 
keep  your  mind  off  er  yerself,  when  ye  're  one 
big  pain  all  over,  an'  there  ain't  room  in  yer 
mind  for  nothin'  else  but  to  think  on  't?" 

"There  ain't  no  devil,  Josiah !"  said  Mrs. 
Eppert. 

"  What  are  you  doing  for  your  rheumatism, 
Joe?"  asked  Mr.  Bartlett,  from  the  wooden 
rocking-chair  where  Mrs.  Eppert  had  seated 
him. 

"That's  jest  it,"  said  he,  reaching  into  his 
pocket  for  a  plug  of  tobacco,  and  biting  off  a 
generous  chew ;  after  which  he  extended  it 
in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Bartlett,  who  dismissed 
it  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

"That's  jest  it.  I  had  Butterworth  up 
here  a  couple  o'  times,  an'  he  'lowed  there  's 
too  much  acid  in  my  blood.  He  left  me  a 
kind  er  surrup  to  take  internally,  and  some 
sort  o'  lin'ment  to  rub  on  out — ternally,  but 
them  there  young  'uns,  they  broke  the  bottle 
a-'raslin' ;  and  nex'  time  I  sent  for  ter  have 
some  more,  he  wanted  ter  know  who 's 
a-goin'  to  be  responsible  for  the  pay,  and 
he  did  n't  send  more  'n  a  thimbleful.  Folks 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  83 

ain't  mostly  like  you  'uns — so  generous 
like." 

Another  wave  of  dismissal  from  the  young 
lawyer,  and  the  man  returned  to  his  favorite 
theme: 

"  That 's  jest  it.  The  old  'ooman,  she  de- 
clared as  how  I  did  n't  need  no  med'cine. 
She  said  my  laig  did  n't  ache,  'cause  I  had  n't 
got  no  laig.  She — " 

"  Josiah  do  n't  'pear  to  understand  nothin' 
erbout  spirichual  things,"  said  his  wife,  look- 
ing past  them  with  her  gaze  of  placid  melan- 
choly. "He  don't  reelize  that  there  ain't  no 
matter,  nohow ;  and  that  what  ain't,  can 't 
hurt." 

Francis  stole  a  look  at  Sadie.  He  could 
only  see  her  profile  as  she  sat,  but  the  cheek 
turned  toward  him  looked  a  fiery  red,  and  her 
expression,  so  far  as  he  could  discern,  seemed 
disturbed  and  a  trifle  vexed.  But  she  sat  very 
straight  and  stiff. 

He  wondered  if  all  this  twaddle,  in  its 
coarser  form,  did  not  disgust  and  dishearten 
her  with  this  senseless,  scienceless  chimera 
she  had  so  eagerly  embraced. 

"I  thought  you  said,"  continued  he,  "that 
Joe's  leg  was  swollen,  and  very  sore  to  the 
touch?" 


84  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"Well,  sir,  speakin'  arfter  the  manner  o' 
men,  I  s'pose  it  is  that  a  way ;  but,  to  tell 
you  the  plain,  ungarnished  truth,  Josiah  's  in 
a  state  of  dishann'ny,  an'  when  ye  're  in  a  state 
o'  disharm'ny,  you  do  n't  need  no  med'cine. 
Yer  jest  need  to  be  harm'nized.  Miss  Bower- 
sock,  what  lectured  on  Chrischen  Science  at  the 
Hall  in  Easterville,  jest  larfed  when  Josiah's 
son-in-law,  Jim  McMurdy,  told  her  what  But- 
terworth  said  about  its  bein'  the  sigh-attic 
nerve.  'Nothin',  with  a  pain  in  it!'  said  she; 
'  that 's  one  of  the  beatin'est  mysteries  I  ever 
heerd  tell  on.'  And  then  Jim  giv'  her  ten 
dollars,  off  hand,  as  he  'd  saved  up ;  and  she 
told  him  to  persuade  Josiah  not  to  take  no 
more  med'cine,  and  she  'd  giv'  him  absent 
treatment.  And  if  Josiah  'd  only  take  his 
mind  off  er  his  seemin'  self,  I  know  he  'd  begin 
ter  pick  up." 

Miss  Spencer  broke  in,  speaking  swiftly 
and  determinedly: 

"  Mr.  Eppert  should  hold  himself  vigor- 
ously '  to  his  right  of  soul-growth,  unob- 
structed and  unretarded  by  physical  defects,' 
as  one  of  our  writers  truly  says.  Invalidism 
would  not  reward  his  highest  efforts  in  this 
direction.  Do  you  exercise  'expectant  atten- 
tion?' You  know  you  should  do  this." 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  85 

Francis  grinned  a  little  under  his  mustache 
as  he  looked  in  Joe's  direction.  If  this  was 
a  pearl  of  wisdom,  it  had  certainly  been  cast 
under  a  hoof.  Joe  was  scratching  his  head, 
with  a  dazed  and  bewildered  look. 

"  I  reckon  you  're  right,  Miss,  but  I  do  n't 
seem  ter  sense  it  adzactly." 

Francis  pitied'  his  erstwhile  antagonist,  and 
gave  a  turn  to  the  conversation  by  suggesting 
that  Mrs.  Eppert  dress  some  of  the  fish  for 
supper,  while  Miss  Spencer  went  in  to  see  the 
little  girl. 

"  And  if  nobody  objects,  I  would  like  to  go 
in  and  be  introduced  to  her  myself." 

If  any  one  objected,  the  objection  remained 
unspoken,  and  Sadie  and  he  went  through  the 
door  into  the  little  room  beyond. 

How  a  child  of  Joe's  could  be  pretty  Francis 
did  not  understand  ;  but  'Liza  was  like  a  swan 
in  a  duck-pond. 

"  Her  inarm  was  better  looking  than  I  am, 
I  reckon,"  said  Mrs.  Eppert  when  she  saw  the 
young  man's  look  of  admiring  surprise  at  the 
first  sight  of  'Liza. 

She  was  about  thirteen  years  of  age,  so 
frail  and  slender  that  he  almost  feared  to  take 
the  hand  she  held  out  to  him  lest  it  should 
break  in  his  clasp.  Her  complexion  was 


86  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

ghostly  white ;  she  had  great,  violet  eyes  and 
long,  black  lashes ;  and  short,  black  hair  of 
exceeding  fineness,  that  curled  in  delicate 
rings  all  over  her  head.  Her  cheeks  were  a 
vivid  scarlet,  for  she  was  burning  with  fever; 
and  when  she  began  to  speak  to  Miss  Spencer, 
a  cough  interrupted  her. 

"  Now,  'Liza,"  said  Sadie,  brightly,  "  I 
have  brought  something  for  you  in  this 
basket." 

She  opened  it  beside  the  bed,  and  set  out 
a  trio  of  jelly-glasses,  with  garnet  and  amber 
contents.  Next  came  a  glass  jar  of  rich  Jer- 
sey milk,  some  lemons,  and  a  package  of 
sugar,  a  little  majolica  pitcher,  filled  with 
broth,  and,  last  of  all,  a  big  bunch  of  flowers, 
of  the  choicest  her  aunt's  garden  afforded. 

"  They  're  awful  beautiful,"  said  'Liza,  as 
Sadie  filled  a  mug  standing  in  the  window 
with  water,  from  a  pail  near  at  hand,  and  put 
the  blossoms  into  it,  setting  them  where  the 
invalid  could  see  them  without  turning  her 
head. 

"Yes,  dear,"  said  Miss  Spencer;  "and 
God's  world  is  full  of  beauty  and  sunshine 
and  happiness  ;  is  n't  it?" 

The  child  rolled  her  head  restlessly  on  the 
pillow,  and  her  large,  brilliant  eyes  glanced 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  87 

toward  the  window  from  which  the  faded 
calico  curtain  was  partially  drawn  back. 

"  I  donno.  I  s'pose  it  is  because  he  made 
it;  but  I  don't  feel  so  much  of  the  sunshine  's 
I  do  of  the  pain.  Ye  see  the  sunshine  's  outer 
doors,  an'  it  comes  an'  goes ;  but  the  pain  an' 
the  cough,  they  stays  by  all  the  time." 

"  O  no,  my  dear ;  you  must  n't  think  of 
pains  and  cough.  You  must  say  to  yourself 
that  the  world  is  full  of  God,  and  God  and 
good  mean  the  same  thing;  that  you  are  his 
child  and  trying  to  please  him,  and  that  ke 
gives  you  health  and  strength  in  return  for 
your  obedience;  that  evil  and  sickness  can 
not  touch  you." 

"  That 's  what  Mis's  Morris  told  me ;  and 
she  said  there  was  n't  no  sickness ;  but  when 
she  was  a  sayin'  it  there  was  a  awful  pain  in 
my  side,  so  't  I  screamed  right  out,  an'  then  I 
had  ter  set  up  in  bed  and  cough  and  cough. 
An'  she  said  it  was  unfaith.  Even  marm  was 
scairt  about  me,  an'  brung  me  a  lickrish  drop 
ter  put  in  my  mouth  an'  let  the  juice  run 
down  my  throat.  But  Mis's  Morris,  she  car- 
ried on  awful.  She  said  as  how  't  was  wicked 
ter  interfere  with  God's  cures  with  his  own 
childern." 

Francis  looked  at  Sadie,  but  she  did  not 


88  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

return  his  glance.  She  was  raising  the  little 
girl  on  her  arm,  as  a  paroxysm  of  coughing 
was  coming  on.  After  it  was  over,  the  young 
healer  bent  over  the  child  and  said  : 

"  But  you  are  getting  better,  you  know." 

"  I  donno.  Sometimes  I  feel 's  if  I  never 
should  get  no  better,"  panted  the  child. 
"  Won't  yer  wet  a  rag  with  cold  water'  n  lay 
it  on  my  forrud?  It's  so  hot." 

Francis  could  see  that  the  healer  trembled 
visibly.  That  little  pleading  voice  was  so 
meek  and  melancholy  and  pitiful. 

Sadie  even  moved  a  little,  as  if  to  grant 
this  request,  but  checked  herself,  and  her  voice 
shook  as  she  said,  in  a  low  tone : 

"I  wouldn't,  dear,  if  I  were  you.  It's 
only  an  idea  that  water  cools  fever.  Let  God 
have  his  own  way  with  you." 

He  could  stand  no  more  of  this.  He 
jumped  up,  and  took  from  his  pocket  the 
dainty  napkin  with  the  drawn-work  on  its 
border,  and  holding  it  out  of  the  window, 
poured  water  over  it  until  it  was  saturated 
with  the  cooling  fluid.  Then  he  went  and 
laid  it,  smoothly  folded,  on  the  heated  brow  of 
the  child. 

"I  do  n't  think  God  will  be  displeased  with 
this,"  said  he,  in  a  strained,  quiet  voice. 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  89 

"God  was  very  good  when  lie  made  water  to 
quench  thirst  and  cool  fever  and  refresh  the 
parched  body." 

"O,  how  good  it  is  !  how  good  it  is  !" 

'Liza  reached  up  her  little,  burning  hand, 
and  put  it  over  his,  as  it  held  the  napkin  to 
her  head. 

Tears  came  into  the  young  lawyer's  eyes ; 
but  he  winked  them  away,  and  said,  in  a 
merry,  pleasant  tone : 

"You  mustn't  let  anybody  fool  you  out  of 
having  all  the  cold  water  you  want,  'Liza. 
Water  's  free,  thank  heaven  !  the  world  is  full 
of  it,  and  a  special  blessing  is  promised  to 
those  who  give  it  to  one  of  'these  little 
ones.' " 

He  did  not  look  to  see  how  Sadie  took  this 
interference  on  his  part.  He  felt  very  bitter 
toward  her  just  then.  What  monsters  these 
healers  must  be,  to  be  able  to  turn  aside  such 
pleas  as  that,  and  what  a  monster  they  made 
out  this  "All-good"  to  be  ! 

Francis  Bartlett  had  never  "spoken  in  meet- 
ing," nor  lifted  his  voice  in  prayer  in  public, 
but  now  he  said  to  'Liza,  softly : 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  Jesus?" 

"Oyes!"  said  the  child,  a  light  coming 
into  her  listless  eyes;  "I  like  HIM  !  Sunday- 


90  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

school  teacher  was  here  t'  other  day,  'n  she 
said  as  how  he  liked  childern  better 'n  any- 
body else,  'n  called  'em  his  lambs ;  an'  how, 
arfter  they  was  dead,  he  was  a-goin'  ter  make 
'em  alive  ergin,  an'  give  'em  a  home  in  a 
better  world  'n  this.  An'  she  read  me  sum- 
pin'  'bout  'em  not  bein'  sick  there  no  more, 
nor  nothin'  bad,  where  he  's  a-goin'  ter  take 
'em.  Yes,  I  like  HIM  !  I  askt  her  if  he  'd 
a-let  me  take  med'cine  ter  make  me  feel  bet- 
ter, if  he  'd  a-been  here  now  ?  an'  she  said 
he  'd  a-cured  me  his  own  self.  I  like  Him 
better  'n  God,  'cause  God  do  n't  like  it,  Mis's 
Morris  says,  'f  I  do  anything  ter  make  me  feel 
better.  I  'd  like  ter  go  to  that  a  place  where 
He  is !" 

"Well,  'Liza,  you  be  a  good  little  girl,  and 
love  Him,  and  one  of  these  days  you  will 
go  there." 

"That  'd  be  real  nice,  and  I  never  did  have 
anything  nice.  Sumpin'  always  has  hurted 
me,  ever  since  I  knowed  anything." 

"Nothing  will  hurt  you  there,  'Liza;  for 
'they  shall  not  hurt  nor  destroy  in  all  my  holy 
mountain.' ' 

"Is  there  mountins  there?  Is  there  moun- 
tins?"  asked  the  child,  excitedly.  "Marm 
come  from  Pennsylvany,  where  there  's  moun- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  91 

tins,  an'  I  always  did  want  to  see  moun- 
tins." 

"Yes,  there  are  mountains,  or  something 
like  them,  I  think.  But  we  must  not  tire 
you,  'I/iza.  You  must  eat  Miss  Spencer's 
goodies,  and  try  to  feel  better,  and  we — 
she — will  come  to  see  you  again,  some  day." 

"Won't  you  come  too,  Mister?  You'll 
want  ter  git  this  pretty  rag  back  ergin,  an' 
you  kin  tell  me  more  about  them  mountins, 
an' — erbout  Him.  I  like  HIM." 

"Yes,  'Liza,  I  '11  come,  and  I  '11  try  to  see 
if  we  can  't  have  something  done  to  make  you 
feel  better." 

Mrs.  Eppert  had  put  the  skillet  over  the 
newly  lighted  fire  in  the  adjoining  room,  and 
a  strong  scent  of  lard,  in  the  process  of  heat- 
ing, saluted  their  nostrils. 

Mr.  Bartlett  went  out  and  talked  earnestly 
with  Joe  in  a  low  tone,  at  the  front  door, 
while  Sadie  made  a  last  effort  with  the  sick 
child. 

"You  must  love  God,  'Liza,  and  try  to 
please  him,"  said  she. 

A  troubled  look  came  into  the  large  violet 
eyes. 

"I  wisht  I  could  love  him  better,  Miss — 
if  he  only  was  like  Him,  I  'low  I  could  now." 


93  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"He  is  all  goodness,  'Liza — he  wants  you 
to  forget  all  about  yourself,  and  about  being 
sick,  and  get  well." 

"I'll  try,  Miss,  but  it's  tol'able  hard  for- 
gittin,"  said  she,  mournfully. 

Sadie  said  no  more,  but  kissed  her  good- 
bye, and  went  out;  and  she  and  Francis, 
followed  by  many  and  voluble  thanks,  walked 
down  to  the  water  together. 

Neither  of  them  spoke,  except  with  the 
briefest  and  most  indifferent  civility,  and  long 
silences  ensued. 

There  was  now  no  dallying  with  the  oars. 
The  sunset,  magnificent  and  golden,  was  at 
their  backs,  and  Mr.  Bartlett  seemed  bent  upon 
getting  away  from  its  enchanted  region — he 
rowed  so  earnestly. 

The  banks  were  fringed  with  willows,  oaks, 
and  poplars, 

Turning  up  each  silver  side, 
To  the  sunlight's  mellow  tide. 

From  the  farms  on  either  side,  the  meadows 
sloped  down  to  "the  crick's"  edge.  Here  and 
there  a  mild-eyed  cow,  not  yet  "driven  up," 
was  standing  knee-deep  in  the  lazy  flood. 

They  dispersed  a  small  fleet  of  snowy- 
rigged  geese,  and  put  to  flight  an  argosy  of 
quacking  ducks.  They  skirted  a  reef  of 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  93 

sedge  near  shore,  its  crowding  culms  bannered 
with  iris. 

% 

And  so,  by  degrees,  they  caine  again  to 
their  own  lives  and  places. 

As  Fiancis  helped  Sadie  ashore,  he  was 
thinking: 

"I  wish  'Liza  could  see  the  'inountins'  I 
lately  saw."  And  then  a  couple  of  lines  came 
into  his  memory : 

"  Less  blue  than  radiant, 
Like  angels'  garments  blanched  with  God." 

But  of  what  thought  Sadie  ? 
Who  knows  ? 


MRANCIS  BARTLETT  had  made  up  "his 


gSf  mind  to  let  Sadie  "go."  As  she  had 
J  been  "go "-ing  up  to  this  time,  however, 
'  P  undeterred  by  whatever  he  might  think 
or  feel,  there  would  have  seemed,  to  the 
casual  comprehension,  very  little  in  this  reso- 
lution, so  savagely  adopted,  that  would  be 
likely  to  influence  the  young  lady's  affairs  in 
any  manner.  And  yet  he  felt  somehow  that 
there  was,  and  that  she  was  thereby  the  loser. 

For  three  whole  weeks  he  stuck  to  the 
office  all  day  and  every  day ;  and  as  he  was 
a  young  man  who  in  general  required  fre- 
quent holidays,  the  junior  partner  and  the 
clerk  compared  notes  on  the  subject,  and 
wondered  what  was  the  matter  with  "the 
old  man." 

Mrs.  Weeks  reaped  the  benefit  of  this  dili- 
gence, and  several  others  who,  like  Hamlet, 
had  long  been  caviling  at  the  "law's  delays." 

He  and  Sadie    for   a  few  days   were   very 

stilted,  and  the  relations  between  them  were 

strained  when  they  met  at  table  or  about  the 

house;    but    gradually,    as    is    usual    among 

94 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  95 

people  living  under  the  same  roof,  things  re- 
solved themselves  into  an  every-day  natural- 
ness, upon  the  surface,  at  least. 

A  few  days  after  the  episode  of  their  visit 
to  the  Epperts,  Mr.  Bartlett  received  a  note 
from  Joe — dirty,  ill-scrawled,  and  worse 
spelled — which  was  constructed  after  this 
fashion : 

"mister  bartLet.  i  hed  a  tuf  time  with 
th  old  womn,  but  she  aint  her  gal,  nohow,  an 
she  hed  ter  nuckle  down  becoz  iin  the  man 
uv  my  one  hous,  an  i  perpose  ter  do  wat  i 
think  best,  lizy  sens  her  luv.  she  thinks 
yure  the  nices  man  she  ever  seen,  buter- 
worth  sez  shes  gone  to  long  ter  git  wel,  but 
he  kin  eze  her  up  considble.  The  trusteas 
wuz  here  ter  see  erbout  helpin  us,  as  you 
sent,  i  told  urn  you  was  goin  ter  pay  my 
dockters  bill  an  lizys  so  no  more  at  presint 
from  josiah  Bpert  ter  lawyer  bartLet.  June. 
1889." 

The  recipient  of  this  effusion  folded  it  up, 
and  put  it  in  his  pocket-book  with  a  half- 
laugh.  'Liza's  compliment  had  touched  some- 
thing in  his  nature  that  responded  with  a 
feeling  of  joy.  This  doing  for  somebody  else 
had  a  pleasure  about  it  he  had  never  so  fully 
experienced  before.  He  felt  as  happy  as  if 


96  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

he  had  been  supporting  a  missionary  orphan 
in  China  or  India. 

Strict  attention  to  truth  demands  the  state- 
ment that  at  this  time  Sarah  Katherine 
Spencer,  Metaphysician  and  Healer,  was  deeply 
troubled. 

She  was  a  person  accustomed  to  act,  from 
early  girlhood,  upon  her  own  responsibility, 
without  giving  any  great  amount  of  thought 
as  to  the  point  of  view  from  which  her  action 
would  be  scrutinized  by  "  the  man  on  the  out- 
side." Her  aunt's  rule,  after  she  came  to  her 
at  the  age  of  seventeen,  had  been  lax  and 
gentle ;  and  the  ten  years'  difference  between 
her  age  and  that  of  her  guardian  had  not 
been  sufficiently  conspicuous  to  seem  to  jus- 
tify him  in  interfering  in  any  particular,  save 
where  her  money  matters  were  concerned. 

It  is  true  that,  up  to  the  present  period, 
her  independence  had  dealt  simply  with  mat- 
ters of  personal  taste  and  habit,  and  had  never 
before  led  her  into  a  position  where  her  con- 
duct might  be  weighed,  measured,  and  judged 
with  regard  to  the  justice  or  injustice  of  the 
effect  it  produced  upon  others. 

She  had  been  a  girl  of  quick  intelligence, 
subtle  wit,  and  fine  fancy,  but  her  emotions 
had  been  slow  in  maturing. 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  97 

The  hour  had  come  to  her  later  than  with 
most  young  women  of  culture  and  education, 
when  the  progeny  of  ideality  began  to  plume 
themselves  for  flight.  And,  coming  later,  it 
furnished  for  these  fledgelings  more  subtle 
pinions,  more  intricate  featherings,  and  in- 
duced them  to  seek  more  dizzy  heights. 

The  wave  of  modern  fanaticism,  miscalled 
Christian  Science,  had  reached  its  tidal-rise 
at  a  time  when  her  heart  had  become  anxious 
for  something  to  absorb  its  affections,  and  her 
mind  longed  for  an  object  to  guide  and  give 
direction  to  its  fretting  ambitions. 

If  some  one  had  been  near  her  at  this 
critical  hour,  who,  with  clear  logic  and  affec- 
tionate persuasion,  could,  without  displaying 
too  evident  a  purpose,  have  convinced  her 
that  indorsement  of  such  a  doctrine  was  the 
most  futile  Quixotism — if  its  evils  extended 
no  further  than  the  folly  line ;  if  she  could 
have  been  shown  that  her  theory  concerning 
its  possible  blessings  to  humanity  was  as  un- 
founded as  the  Don's  in  regard  to  the  origin 
of  Mambrino's  helmet,  she  might  never  have 
committed  herself  to  so  mistaken  an  en- 
thusiasm. 

It  was  the  real  nobility  of  soul  within  her 
which  had  responded  so  readily  to  the  idea — 
9 


98  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"All  God!  All  good!"  This  philosophic  ideal- 
ism, with  its  formula  of  "no  evil  and  no 
death,"  had  fascinated  her  generous,  kindly 
nature  with  the  jubilant  prospect  of  rising 
above  these  two  evils  and  limitations,  which 
make  so  much  of  human  work  and  effort 
weak  and  inefficient — which  appall  the  heart 
that  would  otherwise  be  strong  and  intrepid. 

She  had  said  to  herself,  and  others  had 
emphasized  it,  that  she  must  work — for  some- 
thing, for  somebody,  for  this  very  cause ! 
Work  !  work  !  work  !  That  is  the  clamorous 
cry  of  this  brazen-tongued  age ;  and  how 
many  a  wrecked  life,  goaded  on  by  its  insist- 
ent and  intolerant  demand  to  work  with  which 
God  never  meant  it  to  identify  itself,  could 
testify,  with  but  slight  change,  in  the  language 
of  Madame  Roland:  "O  work!  how  many 
crimes  are  committed  in  thy  name  !" 

The  members  of  human  society  are  not 
content,  like  Joan  of  Arc,  to  listen  simply  to 
the  "voices"  giving  direction  to  their  own 
careers,  but,  like  Peter,  they  insist  on  ques- 
tioning, "And  what  shall  this  man  do?" 
without  waiting  to  hear  the  divine  reply, 
"What  is  that  to  thee  ?" 

A  convert  like  Miss  Spencer  could  but  give 
prestige  to  a  cause  like  this ;  not  her  wealth 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  99 

and  position  alone,  but  her  intelligence  and 
education  would  fit  her  to  champion  its  illusive 
subtleties  with  less  personal  persecution  than 
might  be  met  with  by  others. 

So,  step  by  step,  scarcely  knowing  whither 
she  was  led,  the  young  girl,  urged  on  by  older 
heads,  became,  first,  a  learner  of  this  new 
"Truth,"  then  a  teacher;  and  flattered  and 
encouraged,  stepped  out  on  the  broad  assump- 
tion that  she,  like  the  apostles  of  old,  could, 
through  Christian  Science,  heal  the  sick. 

I  think  it  is  but  fair  to  say  of  the  majority 
of  these  so-called  healers,  that,  like  Sadie 
Spencer,  "they  know  not  what  they  do." 

If  I  am  rightly  informed,  a  large  number 
of  them  are  members  of  Christian  Churches, 
and  in  conduct  of  life  are  practical  Chris- 
tians ;  quite  regardless  of  any  phase  of  the 
subject,  save  that  metaphysical  one  which, 
under  some  conditions,  by  the  exercise  of 
mind  over  matter  and  a  species  of  hypnotism, 
enables  them  to  relieve  some  people  of  some 
diseases. 

If  this  were  all  that  the  so-called  "science" 
represents,  it  would  in  no  way  clash  with  the 
claims  of  Christ  and  the  Church  upon  them  ; 
but  when  it  denies  the  existence  of  that  evil 
from  which  Christ  came  to  deliver  and  redeem 


100  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

us,  of  that  Body  sacrificed  for  our  sins,  of 
that  Resurrection  which  is  the  world's  only 
proof  that  if  a  man  die  he  shall  live  again, 
they  are  in  "a  strait  betwixt  two." 

When  they  dispense  with  the  materiality 
of  the  cities  where  Jesus's  mighty  works  were 
done ;  when  they  sweep  away  that  sea  to 
whose  stormy  waters  he  cried,  "Peace,  be 
still;"  when  they  banish  that  Cross  by  whose 
blood  we  are  "brought  nigh"  unto  the  Father; 
when  they  ignore  that  holy  tear  which  he 
shed  at  the  tomb  of  Lazazus ;  when  they 
proclaim  "Our  Church  is  built  on  Christ,  not 
a  person,  but  the  principle  that  Christ  said 
is  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life," — they 
have  destroyed  all  that  is  Christian  in 
theology. 

When  "the  Father"  is  represented  as  giv- 
ing the  body  false  and  unreliable  senses,  which, 
carry  to  the  soul  untrue  impressions  of  the 
earth  which  he  has  created  ;  when  they  treat 
as  a  fraud  upon  our  faith  (giving  no  reason 
for  its  perpetration)  -this  lovely  world  which 
he  has  made,  with  its  exquisite  scenery,  its 
changing  seasons,  its  beautiful  embellish- 
ments of  flowers  and  shrubs,  its  provision  of 
fruits  and  grains,  its  mines  of  wealth,  its 
treasure-house  of  scientific  truths  waiting  for 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  IOI 

men  to  explore,  discover,  and  appropriate ; 
when  it  begets  doubt  of  nature,  upon  which 
the  eternal  truth  of  science  rests, — it  blas- 
phemes God  and  makes  of  him  a  liar! 

O  God  of  the  Bible,  who  declarest  thou 
dost  pity  them  that  fear  thee  as  a  father  has 
compassion  on  his  own  children,  for  ab- 
stract principles  of  universal  Life,  Truth,  and 
Love,  said  by  this  sect  to  be  the  one  God, 
man  will  not  give  thee  up  ! 

O  Jesus,  our  atonement,  our  peace,  our  re- 
demption, and  the  one  hope  set  before  us ! 
thou,  whose  blood-stained  foot-prints  mark 
the  pathway  of  human  progress  from  the  dust 
to  heaven,  for  an  impersonal  ideality  bear- 
ing thy  name,  but  destitute  of  thy  merits, 
man  will  not  give  thee  up ! 

O  Holy  Spirit,  blessed  Comforter!  Guide 
to  human  ignorance,  Solacer  of  human  woe, 
Enlightener  of  the  darkness  wherein  sin 
dwells,  Accuser  of  the  affections  that  hold  it 
dear,  Revealer  of  the  things  of  Christ  to  him 
who  will  receive  them,  for  a  "divine  sci- 
ence, revealing  and  explaining  this  triune 
principle,"  man  will  not  give  thee  up  ! 

The  religion  of  the  ideal  and  the  idea  only 
must  ever  be  limited  to  the  elect  few,  whose 
mental  aptitude  or  worldly  situation  incline 


102  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

them  to  and  make  possible  the  pursuit  of 
abstruse  and  chimerical  speculations.  If  these 
find  such  a  religion  lacking  in  those  elements 
which  sustain,  uphold,  and  cheer  on  life's 
weary  journey,  they  may  find  this  lack  com- 
pensated for  by  the  activity  required  of  the 
mind  in  its  fruitless  endeavor  to  grasp,  under- 
stand, and  appropriate  to  human  necessities 
its  peculiar  and  puzzling  dicta.  But  it  is  to 
the  ear  and  heart  of  the  great,  toiling  world, 
struggling  in  the  vortexes  of  labor,  sin,  and 
misery,  that  the  Fatherhood  of  God  and 
Brotherhood  of  Christ  appeal,  with  the  blessed 
call :  "Look  unto  me,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth, 
and  be  saved." 

Miss  Spencer  had  been  prepared  for  crit- 
icism, perhaps  ridicule ;  but  of  philippic, 
such  as  Francis  had  launched  against  what 
she  represented,  she  was  not  at  all  ex- 
pectant. 

She  had  looked  upon  this  assumption  of 
"no  body"  and  "all  God"  as  a  sort  of  higher 
Christian  life ;  regarded  it  as  an  advanced 
religious  state  or  condition,  which  it  behooved 
all  believers  to  attain  to  as  speedily  as  possi- 
ble. She  had  not  reflected  that  Christianity 
could  have  no  appeal  from  that  authoritative 
utterance,  "I  am  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  103 

the  Life,"  while  she  read  mystic  philosophies 
in  order  to  discover  the  "Truth." 

But  the  bold  utterance  of  those  words, 
"You  are  not  Christians!"  had  brought  her 
dreamy,  misty  fancies  up  against  a  very  lofty 
mural  obstruction. 

Was  the  doctrine,  then,  unchristian?  Did 
it,  indeed,  conflict  with  the  revealed  religion 
of  the  highest  school  of  believers  ? 

If  this  young  woman  of  quick  intellect 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  reading  her  Bible, 
such  a  question  would  not  have  been  possi- 
ble ;  it  would,  at  least,  have  been  ridiculous. 
Although,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  many 
Christian  Science  advocates  profess  to  believe 
in  that  Book. 

Have  you  never  had  your  mind  excited, 
exercised,  seemingly  filled  and  absorbed,  with 
some  thought,  feeling,  or  interest  which  ap- 
parently occupied  and  possessed  it  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  all  else,  and  yet  been  conscious, 
when  you  paused  to  analyze  your  mental 
sensations,  that  through  it  all,  under  it,  and 
interwoven  with  it,  was  another  theme  which 
the  mind  had  refused  to  dismiss  ? 

And  now,  for  the  first  time — because  it 
was  the  first  time  that  the  two  subjects  had 
been  arraigned  before  her  as  antagonistic — 


104  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

she  was  aware  that  never,  during  her  brief 
and  spirited  career  as  a  learner,  teacher,  and 
healer,  had  she  failed  in  intellectual  assent  to 
the  Christian  dogmas. 

As  she  "pondered  these  things  in  her 
heart,"  it  dawned  upon  her,  with  wonderful 
clearness,  what  such  abandonment,  even  in 
theory,  might  comprehend.  It  meant  good- 
bye to  all  hope  of  personal  enjoyment  and 
happiness  in  that  "land  that  is  fairer  than 
day,"  in  which,  instinctively,  nearly  all  human 
creatures,  in  this  enlightened  age  and  Nation  of 
religious  liberty,  believe. 

Absorbed  in  the  "all  good,"  there  would 
be  a  loss  of  independent  being,  individuality, 
character,  taste,  and  continued  advancement 
on  the  line  of  personal  preference  and  elec- 
tion. The  prospect  of  final  reunion  with 
friends  would  no  longer  assuage  the  woe  and 
misery  of  the  separation  brought  by  death. 

And  for  what  should  all  this  be  renounced  ? 
Something  which  "keeps  the  promise  to  the 
ear,  and  breaks  it  to  the  hope  " 

It  was,  to  her  fevered  and  distorted  imag- 
ination, like  Victor  Hugo's  description  of  the 
man  obliterated  by  the  quicksand,  with  every- 
thing before  his  view  which  made  prolonged 
existence  to  be  desired. 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  105 

She  had  sported  this  new-old  doctrine, 
which  she  and  her  fellow-scientists  had  gone 
back  to  six  centuries  before  Christ  to  resur- 
rect, as  she  would  have  worn  a  new  bonnet ; 
because,  at  the  first  glance,  it  seemed  attract- 
ive— not  understanding  or  in  the  least  ap- 
preciating its  responsibilities.  But  now,  as 
she  sat  in  her  pretty  room,  with  its  artistic 
litter,  graceful  hangings,  fine  furniture,  and 
dainty  bric-a-brac — all  of  which  seemed  to 
mock  and  jeer  at  her  with  their  testimony  to 
her  very  evident  belief  in  the  existence  of  the 
human  body — she  felt  the  first  accusing  mur- 
murs of  a  reproving  conscience. 

She  sat  and  stared  at  the  little  Bible, 
bound  in  crimson  plush,  which  lay  on  the 
embroidered  cloth  that  covered  her  table ;  but 
she  felt  she  dared  not  unclose  its  clasped 
pages. 

She  had  preached  "another  gospel,"  and 
she  could  still  hear  the  intonation  of  Fran- 
cis's voice,  as  it  had  sounded  when  he  said 
"accursed"  and  "anathema." 

For  many  days,  wherever  she  went,  she 
could  also  hear  a  weak,  sick,  plaintive  little 
voice,  appealing  to  her : 

"Won't  yer  wet  a  rag  with  cold  water, 'n 
lay  it  on  my  forrud  ?" 


106  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

How  had  she  dared  to  deny  this  request — 
and  in  God's  name  too  ?  She,  who  had  never 
been  ill,  never  burned  with  fever,  never  suf- 
fered the  restless  pangs  and  tortures  that 
come  with  the  slow  death  from  incurable  dis- 
ease, had  refused  to  this  innocent  child  cold 
water,  which  God  gives  so  freely  to  all! 

Why  do  we  eat  ?  Why  do  we  drink  ?  God 
can  keep  us  alive  without  eating  and  drink- 
ing, if  it  be  his  will,  just  as  he  could  have 
cooled  the  fever  in  poor  little  'Liza's  blood 
by  a  miracle,  when  simple,  near-at-hand, 
natural  agencies  were  there  to  be  employed. 

Sadie  thought  over  this  phase  of  the  sub- 
ject not  a  little.  She  remembered  a  number 
of  dinners  and  luncheons,  where  she  had  met 
some  of  these  Christian  Science  friends  of 
hers,  and  recalled,  with  no  little  dismay,  the 
remembrance  of  appetites  they  had  brought 
to  these  feasts. 

Her  mind  reverted  in  particular  to  Mrs. 
Littlefield's  decided  preference  for  the  second- 
joint  of  the  turkey,  Mrs.  Hollister's  enjoy- 
ment of  okra,  and  young  Mr.  Kridlinger's 
fondness  for  a  fruit-mosaic  at  dessert. 

This,  in  itself,  was  not  strange  perhaps, 
since  the  world  about  us  has  a  fixed  idea  that 
food  is  necessary  for  the  nourishment  and  sus- 


HfS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  107 

tenance  of  life ;  but  what  was  singular  was 
the  fact  that  no  single  one  of  these  adherents 
to  the  faith  had  lifted  up  his  voice  in  protest 
to  his  fellows  against  pandering  to  so  debas- 
ing and  unworthy  an  opinion  of  a  stupid 
world,  by  lending  to  it  the  support  of  their 
misleading  example 

If,  as  these  people  claimed,  poison  itself 
could  not  shorten  existence,  if  it  were  not  for 
the  credence  given  to  its  power  by  a  mistaken 
belief,  there  being  nothing  essentially  harm- 
ful inherent  in  the  substance  itself;  and  if 
medicine,  as  a  healing  and  remedial  agent, 
owed  its  status  simply  to  the  assent  of  a  de- 
moralized opinion ;  if  spirit  was  the  only  life, 
in  itself  invincible,  immortal,  a  part  of  Deity, 
and  body  only  its  expression, — why,  why  did 
they  lay  such  wonderful  stress  upon  some  fea- 
tures of  their  argument,  and  say  absolutely 
nothing  upon  other  points  quite  as  tenable? 
Why  invent  reasons,  make  inductions,  and 
draw  conclusions  without  inferring  further 
propositions  which,  as  the  day  the  night,  must 
surely  follow? 

But  when  Sadie  had  advanced  thus  far, 
her  head  began  to  whirl,  and  she  felt  that 
"'twere  imbecile  hewing  out  roads  to  a 
wall." 


108  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

In  the  meantime,  Miss  Spencer  did  not  go 
out  in  the  mornings,  so  often  as  formerly,  to 
see  patients. 

The  telephone-bell  gave  an  occasional 
tinkle,  but  the  conversations  seemed  brief 
and  pertinent,  and  Sadie  soon  "rang  off." 

During  those  days  she  began  to  think  very 
seriously  of  marrying  George  Langdon,  and 
going  away — so  far  away  she  should  never 
see  nor  hear  of  anything  or  anybody  con- 
nected with  the  last  few  months  of  her  life 
and  history. 

She  did  not  discourage  him  quite  so  de- 
terminedly as  she  had  done.  She  let  him 
waste  more  or  less  of  her  time  in  the  even- 
ings— sometimes  in  the  parlor ;  sometimes  out 
under  the  stars,  with  Aunt  Harriet  as  dragon 
near  at  hand. 

And,  to  put  it  plainly,  the  dear  woman  felt 
as  dragonish  in  her  disposition  to  make  short 
work  of  this  knight,  as  any  mediaeval  mon- 
ster with  ponderous  scales,  multiplied  coils, 
and  smoking  jaws,  that  gave  occasion  for  the 
prowess  of  the  chevalier-heroes  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages. 

She  was  a  very  innocent-looking  and  well- 
disguised  dragon,  and  the  unconscious  young 
man  did  not  even  feel  afraid  of  her,  as  she 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  109 

rocked  placidly  to  and  fro  in  her  creaking 
chair,  dressed  in  a  cool  gray  muslin,  and  with 
her  hair,  just  turning  to  silver,  rolled  up  with 
side-combs,  in  "puffs"  upon  either  side  of 
her  head. 

He  even  felt  a  mild  interest  in  witnessing 
the  vigorous  ardor  with  which  she  made  oc- 
casional onslaughts  with  her  fan  on  depre- 
dating detachments  of  the  Culex  family — 

"  And  routed  them,  and  scouted  them, 
And  put  them  all  to  flight." 

This  fan  was  composed  of  a  bamboo  frame 
and  handle,  and  was  covered  with  bright  red 
paper,  on  which  was  a  very  fair  representa- 
tion cf  Asiatic  art,  in  the  form  of  a  — .  Fran- 
cis declared  it  was  a  "galumphing  jabber- 
wok,"  but  Sadie  had  written  under  it:  "The 
lady,  or  the  tiger?" 

He  did  not  know  how  potent  an  influence 
this  fan  was  to  wield  in  the  shaping  of  his 
destiny. 


4 


OR   Mrs.   Bartlett  was  "musing,"  while 
the   fire   of   George   Langdon's   passion 
burned. 

Once  or  twice  she  had  appealed  to  her 
son  to  know  why  he  did  not  stay  at  home 
more  in  the  evenings,  and  insinuated  that  by 
failure  to  do  so,  a  rival  was  causing  him  to 
be  forgotten  and  unmissed  ;  but  these  appeals 
fell  short  of  producing  the  desired  effect. 

Once  in  awhile  the  two  young  men  met, 
and  exchanged  civilities — talked  of  the  weather, 
the  last  deal  in  wheat,  or  some  bill  that  had 
been  introduced  in  Congress — when  the  law- 
yer remembered  an  engagement,  consulted  his 
watch,  and  was  off,  leaving  the  coast  clear  and 
the  field  free. 

Aunt  Harriet  was  provoked,  and  Sadie  con- 
firmed in  her  belief  that  "nobody  cared  what 
she  did,  and  she  didn't  either." 

a  He  is  very  inoffensive — a  little  too  effem- 
inate to  suit  Sadie,  I  should  think ;  but  that 's 
her  business,"  was  the  tenor  of  the  lawyer's 
thoughts,  as  he  strode  off  in  the  direction  of 

the  Hollisters. 
no 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  Ill 

And  here  was  another  fly  in  Mrs.  Bartlett's 
ointment — Flora  Hollister 

This  young  lady  was  petite  and  plump, 
with  small  hands  and  feet,  a  bushy  black 
bang,  dark  eyes,  and  clear,  dark  complexion, 
and  a  bird-like  way  of  putting  her  head  on 
one  side  to  look  at  you. 

She  was  one  of  those  girls  who  appear 
equally  well  in  almost  any  role  or  assumption 
of  character,  as  all  of  them  seem  like  the  fad 
of  an  hour — to  be  soon  discarded  for -a  suc- 
cessor. But  they  were  all,  for  the  nonce,  at- 
tractive, charming,  and  for  the  most  part 
amusing.  Being  troubled  with  the  possession 
of  no  pronounced  qualities  or  proclivities,  she 
was  one  of  the  most  graciously  adaptable  be- 
ings in  creation. 

Of  almost  any  two  alternatives  or  extremes, 
this  girl,  like  the  ox  on  the  ancient  coin  be- 
tween the  plow  and  the  altar,  was  always 
"ready  for  either." 

Nobody  quite  respects  a  character  like  this, 
but  everybody  took  her  at  her  face  vahie,  and 
all  allowed  themselves  to  like  her  for  the 
fifteen  minutes  that  she  appeared  to  be  any 
one  thing.  She  was  merry  with  those  who 
were  glad ;  but  declared  to  the  grief-stricken 
and  sorrowful  that  she  "presumed  none  of  us 


112  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

found  life  very  charming,"  and  dropped  with 
them  a  sympathetic  tear. 

For  a  few  weeks  past  she  had  been  en- 
gaged in  the  popular  search  for  "Truth,"  but 
when  Francis  Bartlett  came  home  after  his 
Western  trip,  she  seemed  to  find  him  more  to 
her  taste  than  theology — new  or  old. 

She  lived  not  far  away,  and  fell  into  a 
habit  of  dropping  in  whenever  she  had  reason 
to  suspect  the  young  man  would  be  at  home. 
Sometimes  it  [was  to  get  a  cake  recipe,  or  to 
find  out  for  her  mother  how  to  make  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  pickles,  or  to  share  some  piquant 
morsel  of  gossip  which  she  had  just  picked  up. 

At  first  she  brought  her  books,  to  discuss 
points  with  Miss  Spencer,  or  to  ask  questions; 
but  as  that  young  lady,  after  the  episode  at 
the  Epperts',  staid  in  her  own  room  a  con- 
siderable portion  of  the  time — especially  when 
Francis  was  about — she  did  not  always  in- 
quire for  her,  nor  mount  the  stairs  to  seek  her 
society. 

Francis  had  long  ago  weighed  the  attrac- 
tions of  this  versatile,  chameleon-like  crea- 
ture, and  found  them  decidedly  wanting  in 
magnetic  power  for  him  ;  but,  like  most  young 
men,  sore  over  the  neglect  of  one  girl  whom 
he  did  care  for,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  flat- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  113 

tered  by  the  evident  preference  of  another  for 
whom  he  did  not.  So,  when  Flora  Hollister 
ran  in,  wearing  her  long,  lacy-looking,  white 
apron,  freshly  creased,  as  if  just  put  on — but 
worn  to  indicate  absorption  in  domestic  af- 
fairs— they  laughed  and  talked  of  "trifles  light 
as  air,"  until  Flora  would  often  forget  how 
time  was  flying.  It  would  be  dusk  before 
she  remembered  it,  and  then  he  would  be 
compelled  to  walk  home  with  her. 

Sadie  often  saw  these  two  figures  stroll 
out  into  the  summer  twilight  together,  and 
would  quote  mentally,  with  perhaps  a  little 
bitterness:  "Cast  off  their  bright  skins  yearly, 
like  the  snake!" 

But  all  these  complications  were  becoming 
quite  unbearable  to  Mrs.  Bartlett,  who  deter- 
mined to  try  and  unravel  them.  At  least,  she 
would  give  both  Sadie  and  Francis  an  oppor- 
tunity to  make  up  their  misunderstanding — 
whatever  it  might  be — without  that  rebel,  or 
that  brazen  girl,  hanging  about. 

"Frank,"  said  she,  one  morning1,  as  he  was 
leaving  for  the  office,  "can  you  give  us  this 
afternoon?  Sadie  and  I  want  to  go  out  to 
Aunt  Betsy  Glover's,  to  see  about  the  currants 
for  my  jelly.  I  'm  afraid  she  's  going  to  dis- 
appoint me,  and  not  bring  them  until  it  gets 


114  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

too  late.  They  say  currant-jelly  won't  jell 
after  the  fourth  of  July."  * 

This  was  the  first  Miss  Spencer  had  heard 
about  it,  but  she  looked  resigned. 

"  Perhaps.  About  what  time  do  you  wish 
to  start?" — looking  at  his  watch. 

"Well,  I  must  have  my  after-dinner  nap," 
said  Mrs.  Bartlett. 

"And  I  have  some  sewing  to  do,"  said  Miss 
Spencer. 

Sewing!  He  looked  at  her  more  kindly 
than  he  had  for  a  week.  He  fancied  it  was 
the  good  women  of  the  world  who  sew. 

"How  will  four  o'clock  suit  you? — both  of 
you?  I  shall  be  at  the  court-house  until  half- 
past  three." 

"Four  will  suit  me  admirably,"  said  his 
mother;  and  Sadie  bowed  assent,  in  answer 
to  his  inquiring  look  in  her  direction. 

"  Get  that  gentle  horse  of  Raymond's,  and 
one  of  his  double-seated  carriages,"  said  his 
mother. 

"That's  likely,  ma  mere — don't  you  think 
it  is?  I  would  better  drive  a  sheep,  and  be 
done  with  it.  Why  the  animal  is  n't  more 
than  half  alive." 

"And  the  live  half  is  two-thirds  paralyzed," 
said  Sadie. 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  115 

He  noiselessly  clapped  his  hands  together 
in  silent  applause. 

"Sadie  is  like  me — she  likes  to  feel  the 
wind  blow  when  she  drives." 

Mrs.  Bartlett  followed  her  son  to  the  gate. 

"One  word,"  said  she;  "you  are  always 
being  let  in  for  one  thing  or  another  lately, 
but  do  n't  you,  under  any  provocation,  ask  that 
brazen  girl  to  go  along." 

"Oho!  Sets  the  wind  in  that  quarter? 
Well,  then,  you  keep  the  rebel  away." 

"You  may  strictly  rely  upon  that." 

Sadie  had  been  mysteriously  busy  in  her 
own  room  for  very  many  days.  She  had  done 
comparatively  little  going  out,  had  been  re- 
fused to  most  of  her  callers,  and  had  received 
bundles,  the  contents  of  which  she  had  neither 
explained  nor  referred  to  in  her  aunt's 
presence. 

Mrs.  Bartlett's  curiosity  was  piqued. '  She 
had  a  sincere  desire  to  know  what  on  earth  the 
girl  was  about. 

In  Christian  Science  circles  it  was  sup- 
posed that  her  unusual  retirement  was  due  to 
the  fact  that  her  next  lecture  appointment 
was  not  far  off,  and  that  she  was  "studying 
up,"  and  preparing  herself  for  that  momentous 
occasion. 


Il6  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

But  Mrs.  Bartlett  knew  better.  She  was 
too  much  of  a  lady  to  intrude,  uninvited,  upon 
Sadie's  privacy ;  but,  the  doors  standing  open 
throughout  the  house,  she  heard  the  hum  of 
Sadie's  light-running  machine,  and  knew  that 
Esoteric  Buddhism  had  nothing  whatever  to 
do  with  it. 

What  could  she  be  doing? 

Caroline  Carpenter  came  every  spring  and 
fall,  and  spent  two  or  three  weeks  in  the  con- 
struction of  Sadie's  lingerie;  and  Mrs.  Fowler, 
who  now  advertised  herself  as  Madame  Hen- 
rietta Jocelyn  Fowler,  was  her  dressmaker — 
always  charging  her  a  little  more  for  the 
same  grade  of  work  than  most  of  her  other 
customers. 

So  Sadie  could  not  be  adding  to  the  con- 
tents of  her  own  wardrobe 

The  dear  lady  sighed  over  the  problem, 
and  was  compelled  to  admit  that  she  could  not 
solve  it. 

But  after  she  had  wakened  from  her  nap 
that  afternoon,  and  dressed  herself,  and  rear- 
ranged the  silver-tinged  puffs  of  luxuriant 
hair,  wondering  if  Frank  would  be  on  time, 
she  heard  Sadie's  voice,  calling  to  her  from 
the  head  of  the  stairs : 

"Aunt  Harriet!" 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  117 

"What  is  it,  dear?" 

"Please  come  up,  Auntie;  I've  something 
to  show  you.  I  would  have  told  you  about 
it  before,  but  I  was  afraid  you  would  want  to 
help  me,  and  I  wished  to  do  it  all  myself." 

Mrs.  Bartlett  hurried  up  the  stairway  with 
so  agile  a  tread  that  she  had  to  stop  at  the 
landing  and  catch  her  panting  breath. 

"I'm  stouter  than  you  are,  my  dear,"  said 
she,  presently. 

"  I  should  hope  so !  But  even  young 
women  do  n't  run  up-stairs  now ;  they  know 
better." 

"But  there's  some  excuse  for  me.  I'm 
afflicted,  like  Bluebeard's  wives,  with  an  in- 
satiable desire  to  see." 

Sadie  motioned  her  to  precede  her  into  the 
room ;  and  as  she  stepped  across  the  thresh- 
old, she  stopped  short,  and  looked  around  her 
with  a  puzzled  air.  The  bed  and  chairs,  at 
first  sight,  seemed  completely  covered  with 
articles  of  the  finest  and  most  dainty  under- 
wear, spread  out  to  display  to  fullest  advan- 
tage the  delicate  material,  careful  workman- 
ship, and  beautiful  trimmings  employed  in 
their  construction. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Bartlett  could  concentrate 
her  attention,  she  discovered,  by  taking  them 


Il8  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

up  and  examining  them  one  by  one,  that 
here  were  one-half  dozen  cambric  night-dresses 
of  softest  finish ;  some  were  embellished  with 
lace,  and  others  with  ruffles  of  hemstitched 
linen  lawn,  and  there  were  yet  others  with 
their  Mother  Hubbard  yokes  fashioned  from 
drawn-work,  purchased  by  the  yard,  and  softly 
edged.  But  there  were  no  stiff  embroidery 
nor  troublesome  tucks  about  any  one  of  them, 
and  they  were  all  too  small  for  Sadie. 

Near  these  was  a  little  pile  of  soft,  ribbed 
undervests,  so  fine  they  could  almost  be  drawn 
through  a  ring.  She  had  been  obliged  to 
send  away  for  them  ;  and  through  the  open 
scallops  at  the  neck  of  each  she  had  drawn  a 
narrow  ribbon  of  cream-colored  lutestring,  and 
tied  it  in  a  double  bow. 

Here,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  with  every 
stitch  carefully  set,  and  looking  coquettish  as 
to  make,  but  pathetic  in  size,  was  a  pair  of 
white  flannel  bed-shoes,  bound  with  pink, 
satin  ribbon,  on  each  of  which  was  a  little, 
flat,  pink  satin  dahlia. 

Next,  lay  a  dozen  hemstitched  handker- 
chiefs, with  unobtrusive  narrow  hems,  all 
folded  ready  for  the  tiny  breast-pockets  upon 
every  gown. 

Amid  a  heap  of  soft,  bright  colors,  she  dis- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  119 

tinguished  two  loose,  easy-looking,  little  dress- 
ing-sacks, of  eider-down  flannel ;  one  striped 
in  pink  and  blue,  and  the  other  a  soft  shade 
of  scarlet.  Both  of  these  were  tied  with  rib- 
bons at  the  neck. 

On  a  chair  near  the  bed  were  a  half-dozen 
sheets — not  linen,  but  of  finest  cotton.  Miss 
Spencer  had  a  prejudice  in  their  favor.  Above 
them  were  the  same  number  of  pairs  of 
pillow-cases,  finished  with  lace.  There  were 
a  dozen  long,  white  damask  towels ;  four  of  them 
bordered  in  red  above  the  knotted  fringe, 
four  in  blue,  and  four  in  buff.  Four  damask 
B  tray-cloths,  chain-stitched,  in  wash-silks,  and 
one  dozen  napkins  of  the  same  quality  and  of 
satin  softness,  lay  together. 

Under  these  was  a  fleecy,  white  wool  shawl, 
with  a  border  in  shell  pattern. 

"Tell  me,  Aunt  Harriet!  Have  I  forgotten 
anything?  Is  there  everything  here  that  an 
invalid  should  have  ?  See  !  Here  is  her  little 
dressing-case  !" 

She  lifted  the  plush  cover,  and  displayed 
on  the  dark  red  lining  a  square  hand-mirror, 
with  twisted,  amber-colored  handle,  and  comb 
and  brush  to  correspond. 

"  Whom  are  all  these  things  for  Sadie?  Or, 
do  you  intend  to  start  a  fancy  bazar?" 


120  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"  O  !  Did  n't  I  tell  you  ?  They  're  for  'Liza. 
Poor,  little  'Liza  Eppert.  She 's  so  patient, 
and  so  sick." 

"  But  will  they  know  what  to  do  with 
such  things,  and  how  to  take  care  of  them?" 

"I  will  teach  them  what  to  do,  and  Mrs. 
Eppert  is  a  tidy  woman ;  she  will  keep  them 
nice.  Caroline  has  been  making  a  little,  light, 
cheese-cloth  comfort — white,  knotted  with 
red ;  some  curtains,  and  some  pillows,  for  her 
little  bed.  It 's  so  pretty,  aunt !  The  pret- 
tiest little  brass  bedstead  in  the  catalogue 
that  came  with  Dean's  furniture.  He  sent  for 
it  for  me,  and  the  mattress.  There  's  a  min- 
iature chiffonier,  of  cherry-wood,  with  drawers 
to  keep  her  things  in,  all  by  themselves ;  and 
such  a  pretty  little  chamber-set — so  cool-look- 
ing, and  restful — white,  with  a  wreath  of 
green  leaves  around  it.  Just  like  the  service 
that  goes  with  her  little  brass  tray. 

Mrs.  Bartlett  sat  down,  and  drew  a  long 
breath  of  stupefaction  and  surprise. 

"Does  Francis  know  anything  about  all 
this?" 

Sadie  threw  up  her  head  with  a  graceful, 
stag-like  air  that  was  very  self-assertive. 

"Francis  does  not  need  to  know  it,  so  far 
as  the  money  goes.  It  is  my  interest  money, 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  121 

to  do  with  as  I  like.  And  I  intend,  no  mat- 
ter what  anybody  says,  to  see  that  little  'Laza 
never  wants  for  anything  again,  so  long  as 
she  lives.  I  told  Mr.  Dean  to  furnish  a  com- 
fortable, easy  rocking-chair,  with  the  other 
things,  so  that  if  she  is  able  at  any  time  to 
sit  up,  she  can  have  it  to  use." 

Mrs.  Bartlett  made  no  reply,  and  Miss 
Spencer  suddenly  broke  out,  saying : 

"  Do  n't  let  me  ever  hear  anybody  talk 
slightingly  of  money.  It  is  wicked ;  it  is 
cowardly !  Money  is  a  good  gift  of  God,  and 
sometimes  I  think  that  if  people  who  are 
almost  without  it,  only  had  a  little  more  of  it, 
they  might  live  better  lives.  I  know  they 
would  be  happier.  It  doesn't  seem  to  me 
that  the  ' deceitfulness  of  riches'  has  half  so 
much  to  answer  for  in  spoiling  people's 
natures,  embittering  them,  and  hardening 
their  hearts,  as  the  intolerable  slavery  of 
poverty." 

There  was  considerable  sense  of  humor 
in  Mrs.  Bartlett's  composition,  and  it  showed 
itself  at  this  juncture.  I  feel  confident  that 
what  followed  did  not  simply  happen.  I 
think  she  must  have  been  over  the  ground 
before,  and  that  she  knew  her  way.  She 
reached  over  to  the  table,  took  up  a  certain 


122  HIS  COUSIN,   THE  DOCTOR. 

one  of  the  books  lying  there,  opened  it,  and 
read  aloud,  as  follows : 

"RULES  ON  SITTING  DOWN  TO  TREAT  YOUR- 
SELF FOR  POVERTY. 

"Say  to  yourself  that  because  my  father 
and  mother  were  poor,  it  is  no  sign  that  I  am 
poor.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  heredity. 
God  is  rich,  and  I  am  an  emanation  from 
God ;  consequently,  what  is  his  is  mine,  and 
therefore  I  can  not  be  poor,  for  my  own  will 
come  to  me." 

In  the  midst  of  this  reading,  the  door  shut 
very  vehemently,  and  Mrs.  Bartlett,  looking 
up  from  the  book,  found  herself  the  only  oc- 
cupant of  the  room. 

At  this  moment  Francis  drove  up,  punc- 
tual to  his  appointment ;  and  his  mother 
looked  out  at  the  high-mettled  team  he  was 
holding  well  in  hand,  with  many  misgivings, 
and  the  firm  conviction  that  it  was  frisky  as 
Phaeton's. 


,RS.  BARTLETT  and  "Aunt  Betsy" 
had  gone  down  into  the  garden  to  look 
at  the  currant-bushes,  and  Francis  and 
Sadie  were  left  to  their  own  resources. 

"Let  us  take  a  little  walk,"  said  he,  "while 
they  are  away." 

Sadie  put  on  the  hat  she  had  thrown  off 
for  coolness,  and  signified,  in  an  indifferent 
way,  that  she  was  willing. 

They  stepped  out  on  to  the  roomy,  old- 
fashioned  porch,  running  the  entire  length  of 
one  side  of  the  house,  and  stepped  a  mo- 
ment to  see  Aunt  Betsy's  "help"  feed  the 
chickens. 

This  "help"  was  like  what  Francis  had 
sometimes  heard  his  mother  (who  still  retained 
traces  of  her  Yankee  origin)  speak  of  as  a 
"great,  gangling  creature,"  in  a  slat  sun-bon- 
net, and  a  very  skimp  calico  gown. 

Sadie  called  the  feathered  brood  that  sur- 
rounded the  girl  "chickens,"  although  it  in- 
cluded numerous  hens  and  roosters,  as  well. 

Francis  looked  at  them  speculatively,  as 
he  and  his  companion  passed  down  the  gravel 

123 


124  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

walk,  kept  within  metes  and  bounds,  and  pro- 
tected from  the  encroachment  of  vagrant 
grass-spears  by  round  cobble-stones  set  closely 
together,  smeared  with  a  plenteous  coat  of 
whitewash. 

Even  the  rounded  tops  of  the  boulders, 
here  and  there  to  be  seen,  raising  their  rug- 
ged shoulders  out  of  the  lush  grass,  and  which 
presumably  had  been  where  they  were  now 
found  since  some  long  foregone  period,  had 
surrendered  their  picturesqueness  to  the  in- 
satiable onslaughts  of  some  artist  in  lime. 

"  I  want   to   ask  you  a  question,"  said  he. 

"Yes?" 

u  Whenever  you  have  heard  a  rooster  crow — 
away,  'way  off,  on  a  still  spring  day — did  it 
ever  make  you  feel — I  hardly  know  how  to 
describe  it — sort  of  queer?  Did  it  put  you  in 
mind  of  something  you  couldn't  remember? 
Did  some  part  of  your  nature  stir  and  trem- 
ble, and—" 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  an  expression 
of  sympathetic  understanding,  saying,  eagerly: 

"Yes,  yes!  Has  it  had  that  effect  on  you 
likewise?"  Then,  demurely,  "Perhaps  it's 
an  evidence  of  re-birth." 

"Or  a  two-lobed  brain.  But,  seriously, 
Sadie,  it  seems  to  me  that  some  of  the  most  in- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  125 

spiring  sentiments  and  sensations  of  the  human 
soul  are  purveyed  to  it  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  sound.  What  a  wonderful  God — how 
benevolent,  and  something  more  than  that, 
which  there  is  no  word  of  sufficient  scope  or 
force  to  express,  to  bestow  upon  man  two  such 
senses  as  those  of  sight  and  hearing !" 

"  I  have  noticed  the  effects  of  sound  you 
speak  of;  more  especially  on  Sabbath  days, 
when  everything  was  particularly  quiet.  Some- 
times it  has  brought  the  tears  into  my  eyes, 
and,  like  David,  I  have  longed  for  wings — 
wings — " 

She  stopped  suddenly,  blushing,  and  half 
laughing. 

"It  is  an  evidence  that,  under  all  your  out- 
ward mistakes  your  soul's  aspirations  are  mak- 
ing themselves  felt.  There  are  people  who, 
because  they  see  professors  of  the  Christian 
religion  enjoying  life  and  appreciating  its  good 
things,  think  that  they  are  well  enough  satis- 
fied with  '  the  life  that  now  is '  without  having 
any  yearning  desire  for  a  better  one  to  come. 
I  think,  though,  there  was  never  a  truer  thing 
written,  nor  expressed  in  more  exquisite  lan- 
guage, than  that  of  Bishop  Foster  in  his  book 
'Beyond  the  Grave.'  It  struck  me  so  forcibly 
that  I  committed  it  to  memory.  He  says  if 


126  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

the  soul  of  man  has  always  to  live  here,  '  the 
earth,  that  was  once  so  great,  will  become  too 
narrow  for  it,  and  too  gross.  Beauties  will 
come,  and  muster  before  its  interior  eye,  that 
will  make  all  earthly  beauty  fade;  the  glory 
of  sun,  moon,  and  stars  dwindle  before  the 
greater  glory  of  unseen  heavens ;  music  will 
ravish  its  inward  ear,  that  will  make  all  the 
grosser  sounds  of  earthly  harmonies  discords ; 
loves  will  draw  it  deeper  than  all  earthly  sym- 
pathies; it  will  become  an  exile,  a  captive, 
pining  for  deliverance;  earth  will  no  longer  be 
a  home  for  it;  it  will  account  itself  a  stranger 
and  a  pilgrim.  Its  gaze  will  be  turned  upward, 
not  to  the  heavens  of  suns  and  stars,  but  to  the 
greater  heaven,  where  dwell  other  powers  and 
potentates — the  infinite  empyrean  of  truth  and 
love,  and  spiritual  thrones,  and  dominions.' 
Yes ;  when  our  souls  speak,  their  cry  is  for 
'  wings,  wings.'  " 

Sadie  was  silent.  This  was  a  phase  of 
Francis's  nature  she  had  never  seen  before. 

He  spoke  again,  shortly.  "  Life  is  so  brief," 
he  said,  "and  so  uncertain.  No  time  for  wan- 
dering in  'by  and  forbidden  paths,'  from  which 
we  must  come  back  at  length,  foot-sore,  dis- 
heartened, and  weary,  to  the  only  Way.  Think 
it  all  over,  Sadie,  and  be  sure  of  your  ground." 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  127 

She  did  not  reply  to  this;  but  as  the  sun 
flashed  in  her  eyes,  she  stopped,  saying : 

"Dear  me!  I  must  go  back  for  my  par- 
asol!" 

"No,  no!  Wait  a  minute,  and  I  will  fetch 
it." 

But  Mr.  Bartlett  was  gone  more  than  a 
minute,  and  when  he  returned  he  did  not  have 
the  parasol. 

"It  isn't  to  be  found.  Take  this;  you  can 
use  it  as  a  screen,"  said  he,  handing  her  his 
mother's  red  fan. 

She  took  it  with  an  expression  of  counte- 
nance, which,  as  "iron  sharpeneth  iron,"  struck 
a  mischievous  sparkle  from  his  eyes,  and  they 
laughed  in  unison.  All  gravity  instantly  van- 
ished. "Do  you  suppose  Aunt  Betsy  will  in- 
vite us  to  stay  to  supper?"  asked  he,  whim- 
sically, swinging  open  the  gate  which  gave 
access  to  a  narrow  strip  of  ground  which 
flanked  a  country  lane. 

"Well,  now,  do  you  know,  I  don't  know? 
I  saw  a  frying-pan  heating  on  the  stove  when 
we  passed  the  kitchen  door." 

"Perhaps  they're  going  to  'hot-pot'  us." 

Sadie  rolled  her  eyes  with  a  dolorous  look, 
and  again  they  laughed. 

O,  innocent,  idle  talk  and  laughter!      How 


128  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

soothing,  how  comforting  ye  are!  How  many 
a  rough  place  in  life's  journey  have  ye  smoothed 
for  foot-sore  humanity,  by  bringing  temporary 
forgetfulness  of  self,  and  self  s  trials  and  bur- 
dens, while  self  laughed  by  the  way ! 

How  many  an  incipient  wrinkle  have  ye 
banished,  ere  it  etched  its  remorseless  line 
upon  the  troubled  brow,  to  "go  no  more  out 
forever "  till  it  crumble  into  dust !  And  de- 
spite all  assertions  to  the  contrary,  which 
some  long-faced  disciplinarians  of  the  world, 
who  feel  that  they  must  render  personal  ac- 
count for  its  piety  and  its  morals,  may  make, 
such  can  not  be  the  "idle  words"  for  which 
God  shall  call  man  into  judgment.  Sweet  air 
of  June!  How  inspiring,  how  delicious,  how 
tender !  How  delicate  and  fragrant  with  the 
scent  of  the  fields,  the  strawberry,  and  the 
rose !  How  like  a  poem  to  live  in  June,  and 
be  near  to  nature's  heart !  Robert  Browning 
wrote  verse,  in  which  he  said  we  have 

"Never  the  time  and  place 
And  the  loved  one  all  together ;" 

but  here  was  Francis,  in  this  decline  of  an 
exquisite  June  day,  strolling  along  through  a 
bit  of  Arcadian  landscape,  with  Sadie  by  his 
side — not  in  her  grenadier  dress,  not  as  high 
priestess  of  some  repulsive  faith,  not  as  any- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  129 

thing  that  disturbed  or  troubled — only  as  a 
gentle  and  tender-hearted  woman,  whose 
sweet,  becoming  seriousness  of-  a  few  mo- 
ments past  was  crested  with  a  sparkle  of  that 
humorous  mirth  which  skirts  the  border-land 
of  tears. 

She  wore  a  straight,  flimsy  gown,  cream- 
tinted,  with  here  and  there,  far  apart,  cool- 
looking  discs  of  palest  green.  There  was 
olive  velvet  at  the  throat  and  wrists,  and 
silver  clasps  at  the  waist-line  confined  the 
soft  folds  of  the  silken  vest.  Her  yellowish 
hat,  bent  in  aesthetic  curves,  was  circled  with 
a  wreath.  Now,  there  are  wreaths  and 
wreaths.  This  was  no  riotous  overflow  of 
"roses  that  had  never  been  in  bud,"  nor  yet 
of  Levantine  poppies.  If  this  wreath  was  of 
flowers,  it  was  of  flowers  so  tender  in  their 
tint  they  had  not  lost  the  greenness  of  the 
leaf;  and  if  of  leaves,  they  were  potential 
things  that  might  develop  into  flowers. 

Francis  may  be  excused  for  indulging  the 
pretty  fancy  that  she  seemed  like  spring  come 
bacfc  to  walk  with  him  in  summer-time. 

"  Will  you  think  me  too  extravagant  if  I 
tell  you  something?"  asked  she.  She  had 
so  soon  forgotten  that  he  did  "  not  need  to 
know." 


130  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"No,"  said  he;  "I  never  thought  you  ex- 
travagant except  in  one  particular." 

She  did  not  ask  him  what  that  one  partic- 
ular might  be.  Every  insect  hopping  in  the 
grass  and  every  winged  thing  flying  in  the 
air  seemed  shrilly  shouting  out  to  her,  "Hello! 
Hello !" 

Then  she  began  and  told  him,  stammer- 
ingly,  about  what  she  had  been  doing  for 
'Liza,  gathering  courage  as  she  saw  the  ap- 
proving look  that  lit  his  face  as  she  con- 
tinued. 

"  This  is  the  loveliest  thing  you  ever  did," 
said  he ;  and  then  they  fell  to  work  arranging 
the  ways  and  means  for  delivering  the  gifts. 

"We  will  go  down  to-morrow  afternoon, 
about  the  time  that  we  started  to-day.  I  will 
speak  to  Dean  to  send  his  load,  so  it  will  ar- 
rive shortly  after  we  do.  Men  are  always  at 
a  disadvantage  in  such  matters.  They  can  't 
sew  as  women  do,  and  raw  material  is  n't 
half  so  acceptable  or  nice.  Hello,  there  are 
some  ox-eye  daisies !  The  prettiest  ones  I 
have  seen  this  summer.  Wait  a  minute,  and 
I  '11  get  you  some." 

They  had  strayed  as  they  exchanged  their 
serious  talk  and  light  badinage,  and  while 
Sadie  rehearsed  her  secret  concerning  'Liza, 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  131 

to  some  little  distance  from  the  house  which 
they  had  left.  The  daisies  were  in  an  uncul- 
tivated field,  separated  from  the  lane  by  a  rail 
fence,  which  Mr.  Bartlett  went  over  with  much 
athletic  grace.  He  wandered  in  among  a 
tangle  of  wild  flowers,  breaking  off  first  one 
and  then  another,  and  abandoning  them  for 
prettier  ones  ahead  of  him  (they  always  look 
prettier  just  ahead),  until  he  had  gone  some 
distance  into  the  wild  inclosure  thus  over- 
grown. 

Sadie  looked  after  him  for  a  moment,  and 
then  turned  her  eyes  on  the  features  of  the 
scenery  about  her,  shading  them  from  the  sun, 
low  down  in  the  west,  yet  still  sending  back 
his  javelins  of  fire,  with  Aunt  Harriet's  red 
fan.  How  beautiful  the  world  of  nature  was! 
How  bountifully,  through  sound  and  vision, 
did  it  minister  to  man ! 

A  sharp  reproach  pierced  her  with  the 
thought  that  her  presumptuous  philosophy 
had  denied  its  grandeur,  and  ignored  the  debt 
owed  to  these  ministrations  by  man's  spiritual 
life.  Why,  even  now  the  play  of  leaves  in 
the  soft  wind,  the  greenness  of  the  grass  be- 
neath her  feet,  the  aroma  of  flowers,  scent  of 
vines,  and  chirp  of  insect  life  about  her,  made, 
as  Francis  had  said,  "some  part  of  her  nature 


132  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

thrill  and  tremble."  Ah !  how  it  thrilled  and 
trembled — its  higher,  better  part,  in  which 
the  mind  and  the  emotions  mingle  and  reach 
out,  not  to  impossible  ideals,  but  actual  goods 
and  graces,  that,  as  souls  expand,  wear  all  the 
beauties  of  the  ideal,  with  the  added  charms 
of  truth,  permanence,  and  immortality!  And 
it  was  at  this  moment,  when  the  delicate 
mechanism  of  her  nature  was  responding,  in  a 
sweet,  indefinable  tumult,  to  these  appeals  from 
without,  that  there  arose  within  her  a  strong, 
unconquerable  repugnance  to  a  marriage  with 
George  Langdon.  Sadie  had  been  at  church 
on  Sabbath — strange  inconsistency  ! — and  she 
remembered  now  how  the  minister  had  spoken 
of  God  as  him  uwho  desireth  truth  in  the  in- 
ward parts."  Surely,  then,  he  wculd  con- 
demn falsehood  in  the  act.  It  came  to  her 
consciousness  for  the  first  time  that  such  an 
act  would  carry  with  it  a  responsibility  graver 
than  even  the  wreck  of  her  own  life  and 
George  Langdon's ;  it  would  involve  the 
basest  of  falsehood  and  perjury. 

What  had  seemed  to  her  up  to  this  time 
only  as  a  haven  of  rest,  a  way  out  of  troubles 
and  entanglements,  an  escape  and  refuge  from 
her  own  audacious  mistakes,  now  loomed  be- 
fore her  as  a  danger  to  be  avoided,  an  evil  to 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  133 

be  sh tinned — something  to  flee  from,  as  from 
pestilence  and  death. 

Some  ward  had  turned  in  the  lock  of  her 
heart,  some  door  had  slightly  stirred  upon  its 
hitherto  moveless  hinges.  She  had  caught 
one  glimpse  of  her  own  possible  powers  of 
feeling ;.  and  as  she  stood  thus,  shading  her 
eyes  and  looking,  with  a  half  smile,  steadily 
before  her,  the  fate  of  this  luckless  young 
man,  in  so  far  as  it  was  in  any  wise  connected 
with  hopes  concerning  her,  was  sealed. 

Just  at  the  corner  of  this  weed-grown  lot 
wherein  Francis  was  gathering  an  ambitious 
bouquet — like  the  gaudy  pretensions,  alas !  of 
a  large  class  of  human  beings,  and  as  strong 
a  tendency  toward  early  wilting — another  little 
lane  or  foot-path  intersected  with  this  broader 
one  in  which  Miss  Spencer  was  standing. 

Two  or  three  cows  came  leisurely  around 
this  corner,  and  strolled  up  the  incline  in  her 
direction.  At  the  first  sight  of  her,  the  lead- 
ing cow  stopped  suddenly,  and  took  a  more 
prolonged  view.  This  action  the  second  one 
imitated;  and  the  third  also  came  to  a  halt 
of  indecision.  This  pantomime  was  termi- 
nated by  a  bolt  of  the  rear  animal,  which 
urged  the  entire  trio  past  her  in  a  sort  of  or- 
ganic whirlwind. 


134  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

Miss  Spencer  was  afraid  of  cows.  Her 
heart  made  a  sudden  leap  into  her  throat. 
As  she  looked  after  them,  thankful  that  they 
had  "  stood  not  upon  the  order  of  their  going, 
but  gone  at  once,"  she  did  not  at  the  moment 
notice  that  a  short-horn  bull,  closely  followed 
by  a  man  on  horseback,  with  a  longfc  heavy 
black  whip  in  his  hand,  had  also  turned  the 
bend  immediately  in  their  rear.  The  first  in- 
timation she  had  of  this  was  the  sound  of  a 
snorting  and  bellowing  close  at  hand.  She 
turned  her  head  just  in  time  to  see  the  an- 
imal pause  and  lower  his  own,  as  if  about  to 
make  an  attack  upon  her. 

At  this  moment  she  heard  Francis's  foot- 
steps running  across  the  field  behind  her,  and 
a  peremptory  voice  cried  out,  "Throw  down 
that  fan!" 

This  order  was  unnecessary.  Had  her  im- 
mortal soul  been  at  stake,  she  could  not  have 
moved.  In  the  meantime  the  man  on  horse- 
back made  a  quick  strategic  movement,  put- 
ting himself  and  horse  between  her  and  the 
bull,  and  added,  as  a  convincing  clause  of  pro- 
hibitory nature,  a  resonant  swing  of  the  lash 
across  his  flank.  Borne  by  the  urgency  of 
both  horse  and  whip  entirely  beyond  the  ob- 
ject of  his  momentary  rage,  the  fury  of  Taurus 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  135 

took  new  direction,   and,   still  bellowing,  he 
rushed  on  to  overtake  the  departed  cows. 

Francis  vaulted  over  the  fence.  He  looked 
whiter  than  the  frightened  girl  before  him. 

"Hi,  there  !  You !"  called  he  to  the  disrep- 
utable-looking hero  of  the  whip. 

The  hero  pulled  up,  with  a  "Wha'  d'  ye 
want?" 

"Are  those  John  Carey's  cattle?" 

"Ya-as." 

"  Is  that  the  bull  that  killed  Jock  Rollins's 
blooded  colt  yesterday?" 

"  The  very  critter.  He 's  a  tough  un, 
he  is." 

"  Well,  his  owner  will  have  a  tough  price 
to  pay  for  that  colt,  too.  If  that  brute  had 
come  an  inch  nearer  this  young  lady,  I  'd 
have  made  this  part  of  the  world  too  hot  to 
hold  John  Carey  ,  and  you  can  tell  him  that 
from  me.  You  call  at  my  office  at  nine  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning — Francis  Bartlett's,  Main 
Street,  in  town,  and  get  some  money." 

The  man  grinned,  and  remarking  that  he 
"  could  bet  his  bottom  dollar  on  that,"  spurred 
on  his  horse  to  catch  up  with  his  responsible 
charge.  After  ruminating  over  the  affair  for  a 
few  moments,  he  ejected  a  stream  of  tobacco- 
juice  from  his  filthy  mouth,  and  concluded 


136  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR, 

his  cogitations  with,  "  I  reckon  he  's  fond  o' 
that  gal." 

Francis  drew  a  long  breath,  and  turned  to 
Sadie.  She  was  trembling  like  the  leaves  of 
a  " quaking  asp"  tree  when  the  lightest  breath 
of  air  sets  them  in  motion  on  their  slender 
petioles.  He  took  her  hand  in  his  own,  which 
was  cold.  He  tried  to  speak  lightly: 

"  He  was  charging  the  Jabberwok." 

Her  answering  smile  was  very  faint.  He 
must  use  heroic  treatment,  that  was  very  ev- 
ident. 

"  By  way  of  an  idea,"  said  he,  nodding  his 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  cause  of  her 
fright,  "he  is  a  very  robust  specimen  But 
why  did  you  not  remember  Mrs.  Eddy's  dec- 
laration that  '  our  bodies  are  where  we  think 
them,'  and  that  our  psychical  influence  can 
render  them  invulnerable?  Follow  me  for  a 
moment,  Sadie.  The  animal  is  only  an  idea ; 
ergo,  he  is  not  here.  You  are  where  you 
think  yourself;  so,  think  yourself  somewhere 
else  and  you  are  not  here.  But,  even  at  the 
worst,  if  the  bull  and  you  are  both  here,  why 
you  have  only  to  exercise  the  influence  of  the 
psychical  part  of  you  over  the  part  expressing 
the  divine  and  human  idea  of  you,  and,  presto! 
here  you  are,  more  invulnerable  than  Achilles." 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  137 

She  raised  her  head  proudly,  and  the  color 
came  back  into  her  cheek. 

"  You  should  not  waste  such  brilliant  pro- 
fessional work  outside  the  court-house,"  said 
she,  sarcastically 

"  O  well,1'  thought  he,  half  mockingly, 
"when  a  woman  gets  to  running  after  a  will- 
o'-the-wisp  like  this,  there  is  no  getting  on 
with  her  ten  minutes  at  a  time  without  a  col- 
lision. I  wish  that  brute  had  been  in  Jer- 
icho !" 

So,  together,  scarcely  speaking,  they  turned 
back  and  retraced  the  steps  they  had  taken 
with  joy  and  laughter  in  the  soft  June  twi- 
light. 


12 


xcUgFTER    reaching    home,    Miss    Spencer 

(5~7S  went  directly  to   her   own   room.     She 

e,       waited  for  no  deliberation,  the  counsel 

«  w 

'  of  no  sober  second  thought,  which  often 
nullifies  the  hasty  resolution.  She  went  im- 
mediately to  her  writing-desk,  and,  sitting 
down,  wrote  the  answer  for  which  George 
Langdon  had  been  waiting  for  a  week.  Not 
exactly  the  answer  he  had  been  expecting,  or 
which  she  had  thought  to  give  ;  but  she  drew 
a  long  breath  of  utter  and  exquisite  relief 
when  its  direct,  unequivocal  meaning  had 
made  itself  clear  upon  paper  She  hurried 
out  secretly,  and  posted  it  herself,  and  went 
back  to  the  house  again,  without  her  absence 
having  been  noticed. 

'  I  suppose  I  have  done  wrong  with  regard 
to  him,"  muttered  she ;  '  but  if  so,  it  is  of  a 
piece  with  all  the  rest  of  my  follies  and  mis- 
takes, and  I  can  repent  them  all  together." 

But  for   all  that,  Sadie's  sleep  was  broken 
that   night   by  a  knowledge   of  the   pain  she 
was  giving  to  a  man  who,  if  she  did  not  love 
him,  she  knew  loved  her  very  truly. 
138 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  139 

By  the  time  she  and  Francis  Bartlett  were 
on  their  way  to  see  little  'Liza  the  next  day, 
with  Caroline's  comfort  and  pillows  and  Sadie's 
lingerie  in  the  carriage,  and  with  the  load  of 
furnishing  goods  a  little  way  behind  them, 
George  Langdon  had  left  the  town,  disap- 
pointed and  sore  at  heart,  but  excusing  her 
wherein  she  most  blamed  herself — for  ever 
having  encouraged  his  hopes. 

He  knew  that  his  persistence  alone  had 
won  this  encouragement,  such  as  it  was. 

Francis  saw  that  she  was  pensive,  and  that 
a  shadow  lay  upon  her  spirits.  He  knew  of 
Langdon's  departure,  but  he  was  not  aware 
of  what  had  brought  it  about ;  so  to  that  he 
attributed  this  shade  of  sadness,  which,  para- 
doxically speaking,  was  truth,  yet  not  the 
truth. 

He  wondered  in  his  perplexity  what  the 
tie  between  them  might  be,  which  caused  her 
to  be  sad  at  his  going,  when  a  word  from 
her  would  without  doubt  have  caused  him  to 
remain. 

Upon  their  arrival  at  the  Epperts',  they 
were  met  by  Josiah,  who  was,  as  on  the  for- 
mer occasion,  sitting  at  the  open  door,  with 
every  evidence  of  obsequious  delight. 

In    all    Josiah's    life    and    knowledge    of 


140  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

human  beings,  he  had  never  before  met  a  man 
who,  knowing  him  for  what  he  was  and  hav- 
ing no  illusions  that  he  was  "worthy,"  had, 
out  of  pure  Christian  charity  arid  generic  love 
of  his  kind,  extended  to  him  so  hearty  and 
earnest  a  helping  hand,  without  sermon  or 
tract  or  pledge  in  it — just  letting  its  deeds 
speak  in  their  own  eloquent  way. 

And  they  had  spoken.  For  even  a  man 
who  occasionally  steals  .chickens  and  habit- 
ually drinks  whisky,  may  have  a  conscience, 
after  all,  if  he  will  but  stop  stealing  and 
drinking  long  enough  to  let  it  be  heard. 

Josiah  had  stopped,  perforce.  Physical 
disability  had  debarred  him  from  the  one  pur- 
suit, and  pecuniary  embarrassment  had  mate- 
rially lessened  his  facilities  for  following  the 
other;  and  in  this  interval  of  comparative 
decency,  the  man  had  often  thought  to  him- 
self that  it  might  be  a  good  thing  for  him  to 
abandon  both. 

Some  people  may  object,  that  repentance 
of  this  sort  can  not  be  genuine ;  but  I  be- 
lieve, as  a  general  rule,  it  has  to  be  made  hard 
for  mankind  to  do  wrong,  before  they  do  right 
from  choice. 

Even  David,  who  was  a  man  "after  God's 
own  heart,"  declares:  "Before  I  was  afflicted, 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  141 

I  went  astray ;  but  now  have  I  kept  thy 
word." 

Afflictions,  both  of  body  ani  spirit,  we 
know,  have  a  bracing,  tonic  effect  upon  the 
character,  like  a  draught  from  a  quassia-cup. 
They  are  irritative  stimuknts  to  the  better 
qualities  of  the  nature  ;  but,  like  quinine,  they 
are  bitter  to  take. 

"I  'low'd  we  wasn't  goin'  ter  see  you  out 
yere  no  more,"  said  he,  rising  up  with  a  vigor 
that  surprised  his  visitors,  in  view  of  his  re- 
cent incapacity  to  make  use  of  his  limbs, 
and  hobbling  on  his  stick  to  the  carriage. 

"Why,  Joe,  you're  improving!"  said  the 
young  lawyer. 

"  Improvin' !  Well,  now  ye  're  shoutin' ! 
Ef  I  ain't,  I  sh'd  like  ter  know  who  is.  Hitch 
yer  hawse  ter  that  tree,  sir,  and  help  the 
young  'ooman  out.  It 's  astonishin',  now, 
how  much  better  doctor  old  Butterworth  is, 
when  he 's  pintedly  sure  of  gittin'  what 's 
comin'  to  him.  Do  n't  have  ter  fool  no  time 
away  askin'  who 's  responsible  this  time. 
That 's  jest  it.  He  's  a-makin'  the  rheumatiz 
git  up  an'  git.  Hope  I  see  you  well,  Miss? 
Yes,  the  old  'ooman 's  fair  ter  middlin' ;  an' 
'Liza — why  'Liza 's  pearter  'n  I  've  seen  'er 
sence  she  got  down  in  bed.  Don't  hafter 


142  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

set  up  'n  cough  like  she  use'  ter  in  the  night. 
Biitterworth  gives  her  somethiu'  that  eases 
her  up  consid'able.  But  there 's  the  old 
'ooman  a-waitin'  in  the  door.  Walk  right 
in.  You  need  n't  aige  a-past  this  time. 
He!  he!  he!" 

Francis  looked  at  Sadie  at  the  mention  of 
the  doctor,  but  she  seemed  perfectly  oblivious, 
as  she  reached  into  the  carriage  for  parcels 
with  which  to  load  him  down. 

Mrs.  Eppert  met  them  r.t  the  door,  appar- 
ently in  doubt  what  course  to  pursue,  or  what 
would  be  said  and  done  by  the  young  lady, 
when  she  discovered  that  'Liza  had  been 
given  over  by  her  father  and  Mr.  Bartlett  to 
a  doctor's  care — one  of  those  invidious  crea- 
tures supposed  by  Christian  Scientists  to  go 
up  and  down  and  around  and  about,  seeking 
whom  they  may  devour. 

Not  that  this  was  the  form  of  her  thought, 
only  its  gist. 

But  Sadie  met  her  easily  and  pleasantly, 
and  passed  at  once  into  'Liza's  room,  to  which 
she  afterward  admitted  Mr.  Bartlett,  bringing 
the  things  made  for  the  child's  use. 

"I  'm  right  glad  ter  see  ye — both  of  ye. 
I  like  ye — both  of  ye!  Marm  said  't  mebbe 
ye  wouldn't  come  back  no  more,  but  I 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  143 

knowed  better;  'cause  ye  said  ye  would,  an' 
ye  did." 

This  was  little  'Liza's  greeting,  as  she  put 
out  her  attenuated  hands  to  them,  and  smiled 
a  sweet,  pathetic  smile,  that  emphasized  the 
hollows  in  her  cheeks,  and  seemed  to  accent- 
uate the  shadows  of  the  deep  purple  rings 
under  her  eyes. 

"I  am  glad  you  believe  in  us,  dear,  and  I 
have  brought  you  something  in  answer  to  your 
faith  in  me.  Guess  what  it  is." 

"  I  wan'  ter  tell  ye  sumpin  first,  afore  you 
give  me  anything.  I  do  n't  want  ter  act  no 
wrong  story.  I  'm  takin'  doctor's  stuff  ev'ry 
day — three  'n  four  times  a  day.  An'  ev'ry 
three  'n  four  days,  he  comes  ter  see  me  his- 
self,  an'  puts  some  kind  er  glass  thing  under 
my  tongue,  an'  takes  out  his  watch  when  he 
feels  my  wrist,  an'  asks  me  lots  er  questions 
'bout  how  I  feel.  An'  I  ain't  goin'  ter  tell 
yer  nothin'  but  the  truth — I  feel  heaps  better! 
You  ain't  mad  at  me,  are  ye?  'Cause  it's  orful 
when  you  feel  like  I  use'  ter,  'n  ye  hain't  got 
nothin'  to  take." 

Sadie  stooped  down  and  kissed  her,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"No,  child,  I'm  not  angry  with  you.  I'm 
glad  you  are  feeling  so  much  better.  Shall 


144  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

we  turn  the  gentleman  out,  while  I  show  you 
what  1  have  brought?" 

The  child  looked  from  one  conscious  face 
to  the  other. 

"If  you  '11  let  him  in  ergin." 

"  O,  he  shall  come  in.  Now,  Mr.  Bartlett, 
we  will  call  you  when  you  are  wanted.  Con- 
sider yourself  dismissed." 

The  young  man,  smiling,  retired  from  the 
room. 

In  about  a  minute  afterward,  they  heard  a 
shrill  cry  of  delight  from  'Liza. 

"  O,  pap  !  marni !  childern!  Come  quick! 
O,  come  quick !" 

In  a  minute  more  they  were  inside  the 
room,  the  "childern"  being  represented  by 
the  six-year-old,  still  known  to  his  fond 
mother  as  "  Baby."  The  others  had  shaken 
his  society  and  played  hookey. 

'Liza  was  sitting  up  in  bed,  with  her  arms 
full  of  dainty  garments,  and  the  remainder  of 
them  scattered  on  the  foot  of  the  bed  and 
about  the  room. 

"Ain't  they  pretty,  marm?  Aint  they, 
pap?  An'  she  giv'  'em  all — ev'ry  one  of  'em — 
to  me.  I  think  she 's  a'  nangel.  Nobody 
never  done  nothin'  like  this  ter  me  afore ;  an' 
she  would  n't  if  she  warn't  a'  nangel." 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  145 

Josiah  acted  as  if  he  was  stricken  dumb ; 
but  then,  as  Francis  told  Sadie  afterward, 
"Joe  always  was  a  little  dumb." 

Mrs.  Eppert  came  nearer  to  concentrating 
her  gaze  than  the  visitors  had  ever  before 
seen  her ;  and  then  she  turned  it  from  the 
gifts  to  the  giver,  with  the  remark : 

"  Well,  if  this  ain't  the  beatin'est  thing  I 
ever  seen !" 

"  Baby  "  stood  with  mouth  and  eyes  wide 
open,  until  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  not 
been  remembered,  and  the  howling  which  en- 
sued could  only  be  quieted  by  some  loose 
change  from  the  gentleman's  pocket. 

Just  then  there  was  a  knock  with  a  whip- 
handle  on  the  outside  door  of  the  house.  Jo- 
siah hobbled  out  to  receive  the  unexpected 
guest,  and  immediately  called  out: 

"  Polly  !  Polly !  Come  yere  !  There  must 
be  a  mistake  of  some  kind.  It  must  be  Christ- 
mas. Here 's  old  Santy,  by  gum !  loaded 
plum  down." 

Polly  made  quick  time  in  response  to  this 
call ;  and  there  was  heard  floating  backward, 
in  accents  of  increasing  astonishment,  the  re- 
frain that  "  this  was  the  beatin'est  thing  she 
ever  seen." 

Sadie  smiled  and  motioned  Francis  away. 
13 


146  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

Then  she  shut  and  fastened  the  door  with  the 
old-fashioned  hasp  upon  it,  and  proceeded  to 
make  the  little  girl's  scanty  sick  toilet.  But, 
first  of  all,  she  asked  her: 

"  'Liza,  have  you  forgiven  me  for  not  wet- 
ting that  cloth  and  putting  it  on  your  head  ?" 

"  Forgive  you  ?  Why,  I  'low  you  do  n't 
never  need  nobody  to  forgive  you.  You  're 
good  as  Sunday-school  teacher,  and  a  'miff 
sight  prettier.  'N'  I  like  pretty  things ;  an'  I 
like  you." 

The  child  held  her  breath  in  an  awe- 
stricken  way,  as  the  ribbon  in  the  little  vest 
was  tied  about  her  shoulders,  and  the  soft 
cambric  gown,  with  its  Valenciennes  ruffles, 
was  placed  over  it.  But  her  admiration  could 
not  be  restrained  when  the  little,  white  bed- 
shoes,  with  the  pink  dahlia  rosettes,  were  put 
upon  her  feet. 

"Why,  that's  like  Cind'rella.  I  heerd 
about  her  an'  her  fairy  godmother.  Them 
Burnett  children  to  the  Aldershotts',  las'  sum- 
mer, had  a  book  about  her.  Ain't  you  my 
godmother  ?  You  told  me  God  'n'  good  meant 
all  the  same,  an'  I  know  ye  're  good.  But  I 
do  n't  want  the  clock  ter  strike  twelve  this 
time.  I  want  this  ter  stay  certain  true.  Will 
the  clock  strike  ?" 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  147 

As  the  child  asked  this,  she  looked  up  anx- 
iously into  the  fairy  godmother's  face. 

"  I  do  n't  want  it  all  ter  turn  ter  rags  7n 
lose  my  slippers." 

"  Yes,  'Liza,  the  clock  will  strike — some 
day ;  it  will  strike  twelve  for  you ;  but  your 
pretty  things  won't  '  all  turn  to  rags.'  You 
will  wear  more  beautiful  garments  then,  white 
as  snow,  and  a  crown  that  will  glitter  like  the 
stars ;  and  you  will  be  with  Jesus  when  the 
clock  strikes  twelve." 

'Liza  smiled.  "  I  do  n't  mind  that.  I  like 
Him." 

Then  Sadie  rolled  the  little  girl  in  the 
counterpane,  and  unfastened  the  door. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Bartlett,  I  am  coming  out  to 
sit  in  the  rocking-chair,  and  you  shall  bring 
'Liza  and  put  her  in  my  arms,"  called  she. 

After  she  had  established  herself  in  the 
chair,  and  'Liza  had  been  put  upon  her  lap, 
the  child  said : 

"  I  do  n't  b'leeve  I  can  set  up.  Why  do  n't 
I  stay  in  bed?" 

"  Lean  your  head  down  against  my  shoulder, 
and  I  will  rock  you ;  and  I  am  going  to  tie  this 
handkerchief  over  your  eyes  for  a  little  while. 
Then  we  will  see  what  we  shall  find  when  you 
open  them." 


148  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

'Liza  submitted  obediently.  Sadie  could 
see  that  the  excitement  had  wearied  her,  and 
she  was  almost  ready  to  go  to  sleep.  So  she 
was  glad,  after  a  little  tramping  in  and  out  of 
feet  that  wore  heavy  boots,  and  belonged  to 
Mr.  Dean's  delivery  man,  to  take  off  the  blind- 
folding handkerchief,  and  give  the  child  to 
Francis  to  carry  back  into  the  bedroom. 

Poor  'Liza !  The  little  brass  bedstead  and 
beautiful  bed,  and  the  entire  arrangement  of 
the  hitherto  plain,  bare  little  room  was  too 
much  for  her.  When  she  was  put  down  on 
the  snowy  pillows,  her  excitement  overmas- 
tered her,  and  she  began  to  cry. 

"  Sho,  now,  do  n't !  I  would  n't,  now,  'Lizy, 
ef  I  was  you,"  said  Josiah,  drawing  the  back 
of  his  yellow  hand  across  his  eyes.  And 
Polly's  eyes  were  so  moist  that  it  took  several 
rods  off  the  distance  of  their  glance. 

"She  can  't  help  it,  Josiah,"  said  she;  "it 's 
so  beatin';  and  it  seems  like  'twas  so." 

"Well,  Polly,  if  these  yere  senses  is  lyin' 
this  time,  I  b'leeve  I  like  lies.  Do  n't  give  me 
no  sort  of  truth  if  this  yere  is  lies." 

But  while  'Liza  was  sobbing,  Francis  had 
gone  out  suddenly,  and  returned  with  some- 
thing in  his  arms,  which  he  put  into  hers,  and 
closed  them  over  it. 


HfS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  149 

"Are  you  too  big  a  girl  for  that?"  asked  he. 

She  took  her  face  out  of  the  pillow,  and 
looked. 

"O!  O!!  O!!!"  cried  she,  in  a  crescendo  of 
ecstasy. 

It  was  a  large  wax  doll,  with  hair  that 
curled,  clothes  that  would  take  off,  beautiful 
yellow-glass  ear-rings  in  its  ears,  and  O,  won- 
der of  wonders!  Francis  showed  her  how  to 
pull  a  wire  and  make  it  say  "Mamma,"  and 
"Papa." 

The  tears  were  all  dried  now;  but  Sadie 
banished  all  the  people  from  the  room,  and 
shut  out  the  light  with  the  new  green  curtains. 

Then  she  looked  at  the  bottle  by  the  bed- 
side, and  found  out,  by  the  label  and  by  ques- 
tioning, that  it  was  time  for  another  dose, 
which  she  promptly,  with  a  determined  and 
seemingly  satisfactory  air,  administered. 

And  soon  the  child  was  sound  asleep,  with 
the  precious  doll  clasped  tightly  to  her  bosom. 

Miss  Spencer  went  out,  and  softly  closed 
the  door. 

Everybody  can  not  do  things  upon  so 
agreeable  a  scale  as  it  had  pleased  these 
friends  of  ours  to  do  for  'Liza;  but  how  much 
might  be  accomplished  in  this  world  to  amel- 
iorate the  condition  of  the  poor,  the  sick,  and 


150  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

the  sorrowful,  if  people  had  in  them  more  of 
that  spirit  which  leads  to  a  desire  to  do  what 
they  are  able  to  effect,  be  it  little  or  much ! 
Which  of  us  remembers  that  "the  field  is  the 
world,"  and  "the  reapers  are  the  angels;" 
that  we  pass  this  way  but  once,  and  must 
sow  as  we  journey,  if  aught  of  ours  is  to  be 
gathered  when  they  "put  in  the  sickle  and 
reap?'* 


XII- 

JlSS  SPENCER  and  Mr.  Bartlett  were 
making  ready  to  leave,  when  a  spring- 
wagon  was  drawn  up  in  front  of  the 
house,  convoyed  by  a  very  restless  roan 
steed,  which  objected  to  stopping.  Its  driver 
persuaded  it,  however,  by  vigorous  cries  of 
"Whoa,  there!"  "What 're  you  about,  now?" 
"Stand  still,  I  tell  you!"  and  various  other 
admonitions  of  like  nature,  while  a  stout  lady 
climbed  out  backwards,  with  considerable 
display  of  pudgy  ankles  in  white  stockings 
above  old-fashioned  Congress  gaiters. 

Sadie  flushed  a  little  as  she  looked  at  her, 
and  said,  in  a  low  tone,  to  Francis: 

"I  wish  we  had  gotten  away." 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  equally  low  re- 
ply. "  I  think  Joe  may  need  me  to  undertake 
his  defense.  I  've  done  it  under  circumstances 
less  to  his  credit,  I  must  say." 

No  comment  was  made  upon  this  remark, 
and  both  of  them  watched  the  new-comer, 
as,  having  gotten  safely  on  terra  firma,  she 
walked  heavily  and  laboriously  into  the  house, 
while  her  companion  drove  away. 


152  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

The  lady's  face  was  ruddy  with  the  heat, 
and  her  superfluous  weight,  as  she  climbed 
from  the  step  of  the  high-bodied  wagon, 
seemed  to  have  inconvenienced  and  overex- 
erted her. 

Joe  did  not  arise  to  welcome  her,  as  was 
his  custom  with  visitors  more  anxiously  de- 
sired. He  waited  for  Polly,  and  even  Polly's 
motion  was  a  little  reluctant.  To  use  the 
language  of  the  thought  in  her  mind — "  Here 
was  a  pretty  kittle  of  fish!" 

But  even  Polly,  it  appeared,  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  of  being  browbeaten,  or  sat 
upon,  under  her  own  vine  and  fig-tree.  Her 
glance  went  very  wide  of  the  mark,  and  her 
manner  was  quite  as  distant. 

"Why,  how  d'ye  do,  Mis's  Morris?"  said 
she,  setting  that  lady  a  chair,  with  very  indif- 
ferent courtesy. 

Mrs.  Morris  felt  the  change  in  the  atmos- 
phere, and  looked  about  for  the  cause ;  but 
seemed  reassured  when  her  eye  rested  upon 
Miss  Spencer,  whom  she  rushed  forward  to 
and  kissed  with  much  empressment. 

"  Well,  now,  it 's  good  to  see  you  here. 
You  've  been  keeping  your  promise  to  me,  I 
know."  Then,  to  Mrs.  Eppert:  "I  know 
'Liza  feels  better.  I  've  been  giving  her  close 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  153 

attention  all  the  while  I  was  away.  But  I 
am  glad  to  see  that  Miss  Spencer  has  been  a 
present  help  to  you.  Entertaining  is  one  of 
the  best  forms  of  healing.  It  gives  the  mind 
something  pleasant  to  think  about.  Dear 
'Liza!  What  a  privilege  she  has  enjoyed  in 
having  so  earnest  and  enthusiastic  a  healer 
with  her!  And  you,  Miss  Spencer — I  know 
you  have  enjoyed  watching  that  'refining  pro- 
cess by  which  the  body  becomes  the  blended 
possession  of  the  soul,  and  every  seeming 
organ  of  the  body  is  gradually  being  dove- 
tailed into  its  perfect  thought'  " 

A  red  spot  came  out  upon  Sadie's  cheeks ; 
but  she  did  not  reply  to  this  rhodomontade, 
except  to  ask  the  speaker  when  she  had  re- 
turned. 

Was  it  possible  she  had  talked  such  stuff 
as  this  herself,  and  considered  it  intelligent? 
How  many  days  had  it  been  since  she  had,  in 
sheer  desperation,  and  before  Francis  too, 
talked  of  holding  Joe — Joe! — "to  his  right  of 
soul-growth?"  And  what  had,  since  then, 
caused  her  to  see  the  absurdity  of  it  with  such 
overwhelming  distinctness? 

"Why,  if  I  am  not  mistaken^  this  is  Mr. 
Bartlett?"  remarked  Mrs.  Morris,  rising,  and 
holding  out  her  hand  to  the  young  man. 


154  *HS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"Excuse  my  short-sightedness.  I  left  my 
glasses  in  my  other  dress-pocket." 

Mr.  Bartlett  signified  his  willingness  to 
excuse  it,  and  Mrs.  Morris,  with  much  seem- 
ing satisfaction,  sat  down  again. 

She  was  a  woman  with  a  very  straight 
back  and  a  full,  high  bust,  which  gave  her, 
as  she  sat,  the  appearance  of  a  stuffed  owl  on 
a  perch. 

She  wore  a  hot-looking,  somewhat  frayed, 
and  shiny,  black  gros-grain  silk,  mustard- 
colored  cotton  gloves,  and  a  bonnet  of  such 
old-fashioned,  flaring  amplitude  that  it  testi- 
fied to  more  years  on  the  part  of  i's  wearer 
than  the  record  in  the  family  Bible. 

After  Mrs.  Morris  had  seated  herself,  there 
ensued  a  few  moments  of  frosty  silence,  which 
she  broke  by  asking  to  see  'Liza.  No  one 
answered  for  a  half-minute,  after  which  Josiah 
cleared  his  throat,  and  blurted  out  the  fact 
that  "  Butterworth  was  a-tendin'  'Lizy." 

This  information,  for  a  brief  period,  seemed 
to  take  away  Mrs.  Morris's  breath ;  but,  re- 
gaining it,  she  turned  on  Mrs.  Eppert, 
saying : 

"I  am  surprised — at  you!" 

Mrs.  Eppert  proved  herself  equal  to  the 
occasion. 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  155 

"  You  do  n't  have  no  call  to  be.  I  reckon 
Josiah  has  a  right  ter  do  what  he  pleases 
erbout  his  own  young  'uns.  Not  but  what 
'Liza 's  the  same 's  my  own  flesh  an'  blood. 
I  b'leeve  in  Chrischen  healin'  by  them  as  can 
heal ;  but  'Liza  was  n't  gettin'  no  better,  an' 
this  gentleman  present  is  footin'  the  expenses 
for  Butterworth." 

"  But,  my  dear  woman,  it  is  so  debasing — 
this  pandering  to  a  belief  in  evil  and  sickness 
and  death,  this  lowering  the  standard  of  spir- 
itual growth  and  development.  The  increase 
in  the  number  of  physicians  is  absolutely 
startling,  and  it  is  all  owing  to  the  cultivation 
of  the  idea  that  this  seeming  body,  which 
is  the  lowest  grade  of  existence,  is  the  real 
ego" 

"Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Bartlett,  in  an  inter- 
ested manner,  literally  taking  the  lady  off 
Mrs.  Eppert's  hands. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  it  is  so.  No  wonder  the  pul- 
pits teach  that  man  was  made  out  of  the  dust 
of  the  earth,  when  our  groveling  ideas  insist 
so  strenuously  upon  holding  him  to  this  earth 
level." 

"What  would  you  suggest?"  asked  he 
suavely. 

"Why,  I  would  have  him  arise — shine." 


156  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"All!" 

"  I  want  him  to  give  up  his  belief  in  sin, 
evil,  and  death." 

"  Then  you  do  n't  believe  in  death  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Is  your  husband  living?" 

"  Not — not  in  this  sphere,  sir.  But  noth- 
ing is  lost  to  life  when  this  animal  organism 
decays." 

"  Supposing,  now,  that  we  do  not  quarrel 
as  to  terms,  but  come  to  an  understanding  on 
some  neutral  ground.  You  think  'Liza  can 
not  die,  unless  she  lets  herself,  or  those  around 
her  let  themselves,  believe  in  such  a  possi- 
bility." 

"  Certainly  I  think  so.     Of  course." 

"  It  is  true  that  nothing  essential  to  the 
spirit's  existence  '  is  lost  to  life '  when  the 
body  dies ;  but  it  is  'Liza's  body,  and  not  her 
spirit,  that  we  are  trying  to  preserve  as  long 
as  possible  by  the  use  of  medicines." 

"  But  my  dear  sir,  medicines  are  not  ad- 
equate." 

"Is  entertaining?" 

"  It  is  very  useful." 

"  But,  it  did  not  seem  to  be  particularly 
useful  in  this  case.  Under  your  method,  first 
of  entertaining  and  then  of  absent  treatment, 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR,  157 

so  called,  'Liza  grew  worse  every  day.  Her: 
fever  was  higher,  her  cough  more  distressing, 
and  her  days  and  nights  were  becoming  more 
and  more  terrib]  e.  Dr.  Butterworth  has  relieved 
the  most  aggravated  forms  of  all  her  symp- 
toms. Now,  in  favor  of  which  system  lies  the 
preponderance  of  evidence?  Nobody  here  ar- 
gues or  believes  that  there  is  danger  of  any 
death  for  her  but  that  of  the  body ;  but  a  few 
more  weeks  of  such  inhuman  neglect  as  that 
authorized  by  the  Christian  Science  system, 
and  very  few,  would  have  utterly  destroyed 
the  life  of  that." 

"O,  it  is  the  old  story,"  said  Mrs.  Morris, 
with  a  gesture  of  contempt,  "  the  old  story. 
All  those  symptoms  in  'Liza  did  not  prove 
that  she  was  not  getting  well — not  at  all. 
Why,  as  one  of  our  writers  has  said,  '  the 
very  treatment  itself  might  serve  to  cause  a 
little  revolution  in  the  system.' " 

"Granted.  The  only  difficulty  was,"  said 
he,  with  a  sort  of  grim  humor,  "  that  the  rev- 
olution was  in  the  wrong  direction.  Every 
revolution  of  your  system  of  treatment  brought 
her  that  much  nearer  the  grave." 

"  But  can  't  you  see,  Mr.  Bartlett,  that  inert 
matter  can  not  suffer  or  have  ailments  ?  Life 
is  God's  gift,  and  can  not  even  be  sick.  The 


158  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

great  and  only  trouble  lies  in  the  fact  of  a 
lack  of  harmony  in  the  patient.  If  harmony 
were  there,  it  would  first  have  to  be  displaced 
before  pain  could  intrude  itself." 
.  "  I  see  that  you  people  get  your  argu- 
ments wofully  mixed.  You  say  life  can  not 
suffer  or  be  sick.  You  admit  that  the  body 
has  life ;  that  this  life  is  from  God,  the  source 
of  all  harmony ;  that  this  harmony  pervades 
everything  to  the  extent  that  there  can  be  no 
evil ;  and  yet  that  it  is  the  actual  presence  of 
evil  which  makes  the  sickness  possible.  The 
possibility  of  living  on  eternally,  even  in  this 
'  expression  of  God's  idea '  of  us,  the  flesh, 
you  boldly  declare,  if  men  will  but  establish 
themselves  on  that  assertion  as  an  absolute 
and  unchangeable  truth ;  and  then  you  go  and 
bury  your  own  dead  just  the  same  as  other 
people  do,  although  you  do  it  affirming  that 
there  is  no  death  caused  by  sickness ;  no  evil, 
the  result  of  inharmony,  that  brought  the 
sickness;  and  that  though  inharmony  of  some 
kind  must  have  existed  somewhere  to  have 
produced  this  funeral,  God's  harmony  per- 
vades everything  at  all  times,  and  no  two 
things  can  occupy  the  same  space  at  the  same 
time.  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  an  argu- 
ment like  that  ?" 


fffS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  159 

"  I  think  that  you  do  not  understand." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Morris,  I  claim  to  have  aver- 
age intelligence,  and  have  been  making  some- 
thing of  a  study  of  this  philosophy  in  my 
own  way.  A  lawyer  has  to  be  trained  to  an- 
alyze evidence — to  weigh  it  and  pronounce 
upon  its  reasonableness — and  if  I  am  too 
obtuse  to  understand  these  mysticisms  (and 
people  of  my  mental  status),  how  is  the  vast 
body  of  those  yet  lower  in  the  mental  scale 
to  be  able  to  apply  such  a  religion  to  its  cry- 
ing needs?" 

"  They  do  n't  reason  ;  they  simply  exercise 
faith." 

"The  time  has  gone  by,  Mrs.  Morris,  in 
ecclesiastical  history,  when  any  arbitrary  proc- 
lamation of  this  nature  finds  a  royal  road  to 
recognition  in  the  unquestioning  belief  of  the 
masses.  A  doctrine  now,  be  it  true  or  false, 
must  give  a  weighty  reason  for  its  own  exist- 
ence and  propulsion,  because  there  now  exists 
a  higher  standard  of  general  intelligence, 
which  demands  a  practical  faith.  And  while 
I  admit  that,  after  reason  has  gone  to  the 
length  of  its  tether,  faith,  taking  wings,  must 
still  soar  far  above  it,  reason  must  be  able  to 
follow  that  flight  with  indorsement  of  the  pur- 
pose and  consideration  that  gave  rise  to  it." 


160  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,  what  you  call  the 
Christian  religion  has  its  very  pronounced 
mysteries,"  said  she. 

"Admitted.  But  they  appear  only  when 
we  leave  the  realm  of  the  outer  actualities, 
and  begin  to  deal  with  the  purely  spiritual — 
just  as  a  balloon  gets  into  the  clouds  when 
it  rises  and  leaves  the  earth  behind.  But 
your  religion  has  no  basis  of  actuality.  It 
begins,  continues,  and  ends  in  the  clouds. 
Every  man  knows  within  himself  that  he  ex- 
ists ;  and  when  you  summon  him  to  a  Barme- 
cide feast  which  is  to  feed  him  upon  his  own 
nonentity,  he  is  very  likely  to  go  away  hungry. 
God  has  made  every  human  being  an  angle  of 
reflection,  from  which  is  ever  echoed  and  re- 
echoed his  own  sublime  declaration,  '  I  am.' 
To  return,  however,  to  the  question  of  life  and 
its  continuity,  I  shall  refer  you  to  what  I  con- 
sider infallible  proof  that  no  amount  of  har- 
monizing, or  planting  the  feet  on  the  asser- 
tion that  it  is  indestructible,  will  do  away 
with.  I  find  it  in  the  Bible.  You  Christian 
Scientists  go  foraging  through  the  Bible,  pick- 
ing up  what  you  like  and  weaving  it  into  your 
fantasies,  and  leaving  the  remainder.  You 
don't  carry  away  with  you  the  assertion 
David  made  in  the  nineteenth  Psalm,  that  a 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  l6l 

man's  life  is  measured  out  to  him  by"  years ; 
that  the  average  number  is  threescore  and 
ten ;  that  it  may  be  more  or  less ;  but  that 
there  is  in  that  vicinity  a  terminal  point  mark- 
ing the  end  of  the  route.  Let  me  see  a  Chris- 
tian Scientist  who  can  keep  a  man  from  grow- 
ing old — from  reaching  the  summit  of  his 
powers,  and  from  thence  beginning  to  decline. 
O,  Mrs.  Morris,  why  don't  some  of  you  go 
about  preventing  the  mournful  condition  of 
old  age?" 

The  lady  sat  very  straight  and  stiff,  with  a 
flush  of  embarrassment  on  her  che-ek,  unable 
to  reply. 

"  I  understand  you  have  just  buried  your 
father,"  he  said.  "I  am  sorry  to  hear  it." 

"Yes,"  said  she,  taking  out  her  handker- 
chief to  wipe  away  a  genuine  tear. 

"Was  he  dead?" 

She  paused,  with  the  handkerchief  half- 
way to  her  eyes,  and  glared  at  him. 

"  If  faith  in  a  candidate  for  healing  is  not 
necessary,  I  can  not  understand  why  the  inner 
illumination  possessed  by  a  healer  who  knows 
that  sickness,  death,  and  evil  do  not  exist, 
should  not  be  sufficient  to  enable  such  healer 
to  raise  the  dead — as  we  consider  them." 

He  got  up  and  walked  the  floor  excitedly. 
M 


1 62  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

11  If  I  had  been  you,  and  known  such  a 
thing  as  that,  he  should  not  have  been  buried. 
I  would  have  defied  the  physician,  dismissed 
the  undertaker,  and  driven  away  the  health- 
officer.  I  would  not  have  suffered  rny  living 
father  to  have  been  buried  under  the  ground. 
Why  did  you  not  stand  by  your  colors,  and 
cry  it  out  from  the  house-top — this  wonderful 
truth  that  ought  to  revolutionize  the  world? 
Unless  you  are  subscribing  to  a  falsehood, 
every  grave  that  was  ever  dug  holds  in  cruel 
imprisonment  some  case  of  suspended,  or 
seemingly  suspended,  animation;  and  Tan- 
ner's proposed  experiment  of  being  buried  a 
few  months,  with  his  tongue  turned  back  into 
his  throat,  would  have  been  nothing  new 
tinder  the  sun." 

"  I  'low  't  would  be  a  nuff  sight  better,  if 
you  '11  excuse  me,  sir,  and  ladies,  for  sayin' 
so,  ef  lots  er  tongues  was  turned  back  inter 
throats  and  stayed  there,"  interrupted  Josiah. 

This  acted  as  a  slight  diversion,  enabling 
Mrs.  Morris  to  regain  composure,  glide  rap- 
idly away  from  the  subject  of  Death,  and 
branch  out  upon  that  of  Evil : 

"  I  think  it  is  so  beautiful  to  feel  that  there 
is  no  evil.  Sometimes  it  comes  over  me  with 
such  peculiar  force!  Last  night  it.  was  so 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  163 

sweetly  impressed  upon  me,  as  I  was  lying  in 
bed,  that  I  said,  aloud:  'Mother,  there  is 
no  evil!'" 

"Is  your  mother  dead,  madam?" 

"No,  sir!  She  still  resides  in  the  State  of 
New  York.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  it  is  a  very 
precious  belief.  I  teach  my  little  boy  that 
there  is  no  evil,  and  it  makes  him  fearless. 
He  climbs  everywhere.  He  is  n't  afraid  of 
anything." 

"But,  supposing  he  falls  out  of  a  tree  some 
day,  and  breaks  his  arm — what  then?" 

"Why,  he  won't  know  no  better 'n  to  think 
what  a  norful  liar  his  marm  must  be!"  again 
interrupted  Josiah. 

Mrs.  Morris  could  not  leave  the  house  in 
dudgeon  until  Mr.  Grim,  who  was  collecting 
money  on  a  note  at  a  house  further  away 
down  on  "the  valley  pike,"  returned  for  her; 
so  she  ignored  this  remark  entirely. 

"Do  you  healers  set  bones  by  'entertain- 
ing?' "  continued  Francis. 

"Well,  no;  not  yet!"  reluctantly  answered 
she.  "We  hope  to,  before  long." 

"Well,  in  the  suppositional  case  referred' 
to — if  your  little  boy  should  break  an  arm  or 
a  leg — what  would  you  do?  Let  it  go  unset, 
and  lose  the  arm  or  leg ;  or,  call  in  one  of 


164  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

those  doctors,  the  increase  in  whose  numbers 
is  so  startling?" 

Mrs.  Morris  looked  appealingly  towards 
Sadie  |  but  this  young  lady  was  fastening  and 
unfastening  the  strap  of  her  parasol,  and 
seemed  much  absorbed  in  the  operation.  She 
did  not  rally  to  the  assistance  of  her  sister  in 
the  faith,  as  might  reasonably  have  been  ex- 
pected, and  Mrs.  Morris,  becoming  suddenly 
more  reticent,  replied  that  there  was  "no  use 
in  arguing  upon  a  suppositional  case." 

"But  accidents  of  this  character  occur, 
somewhere,  every  day.  What  shall  we  do 
with  this  great  army  of  people  with  broken 
bones,  until  such  time  as  you  can" — here  he 
glanced  swiftly  and  guiltily  at  Sadie — "suc- 
ceed in  'holding  them  to  their  right  of  soul- 
growth,'  and  make  '  every  seeming  organ  of 
the  body  dovetail  into  the  soul's  perfect 
thought?' " 

"Man  must,  until  then,  suffer 'the  unpleas- 
ant results  of  his  unfaith,  I  suppose,"  replied 
she,  feebly. 

"Why  must  he?"  asked  Francis.  "If  his 
'unfaith,'  as  you  call  it,  prevents  him  from 
moving  a  broken  limb  and  calling  it  whole — 
in  obedience  to  the  orders  of  an  entertainer 
who  is  trying  to  'hold  him  to  his  right  of 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  165 

soul-growth ' — what  prevents  him  from  calling 
in  a  physician,  who  has  scientific  knowledge, 
and  having  it  set?" 

Mrs.  Morris  was  vainly  casting  about  for  a 
reply,  when  Mrs.  Eppert,  gazing  into  space, 
declared : 

"I  make  one  exception  ter  the  b'leef  that 
there  ain't  no  evil." 

"What  is  that?1'  asked  Mr.  Bartlett. 

"Licker!"  said  she,  placidly;  while  Josiah, 
who  was  sitting  near  the  door,  had  sudden 
business  outside. 

"I  am  afraid,  Mrs.  Morris,"  said  Mr.  Bart- 
lett, in  a  gentle,  insinuating  voice,  "that  we 
do  not  reckon  from  the  same  data.  I  do  n't 
know  what  your  sacred  book  may  be — whether 
it  is  called  'Ontology,'  'Theosophy,'  or  what 
not — but  it  can  not  be  the  Bible ;  for  that,  in 
the  very  beginning,  speaks  of  a  tree  of  the 
'knowledge  of  good  and  evil,'  which  caused 
our  progenitors  some  considerable  embarrass- 
ment. And  your  term  'Christian,'  regarding 
your  'science,'  must  refer  to  some  other 
Christ — 'not  a  person,  but  a  principle' — of 
whom  I  know  nothing.  Our  Christ  taught 
his  disciples  to  pray :  '  Deliver  us  from  evil.' 
Our  Christ  himself  prayed  to  his  Father,  say- 
ing he  asked  not  that  his  disciples  should  be 


1 66  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

taken  out  of  the  world,  but  that  he  would 
'keep  them  from  the  evil.'  I  understand 
where  you  get  your  'All-God,  all-good.'  It 
comes  from  the  Pantheistic  belief  that  there 
is  no  God,  excepting  the  combined  laws  and 
forces  of  the  universe,  whose  general  char- 
acter is  supposed  to  be  good.  It  comes  from 
a  modern  rehabilitation  of  the  philosophy  of 
Plato.  It  comes  from  Hindustan,  and  has 
very  much  to  do  with  that  individual  who  is 
represented  sitting  cross-legged  on  his  foot, 
with  his  ears  turned  down.  Your  God-good, 
good-God,  is  accounted  for;  but  where  do  you 
get  your  Christ?  He  is  a  graft — an  interpola- 
tion. Christians  do  not  allow  your  process  of 
healing,  which  comes  from  an  entirely  differ- 
ent source  of  faith  and  belief — demonology, 
for  aught  I  know — to  have  anything  in  com- 
mon with  the  faith-cures  of  Scripture." 

Mrs.  Morris  had  gotten  far  beyond  her 
depth.  Like  many  another,  she  had  never 
considered,  until  the  matter  was  thus  set  be- 
fore her,  the  points  of  variance  between 
"Christian  Science"  doctrine  and  the  Bible, 
which  she  was  not  yet  fully  prepared  to 
abjure.  Sure  enough,  out  of  this  "old  the- 
ology," whence  did  Christ  come? 

"It  may  be,"  said  she,  lamely,  "that  that 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  167 

name  has  been  attached  to  this  power  of 
healing  on  account  of  the  similarity  of  the 
evidences  found  in  the  cures." 

"They  are  very  dissimilar.  Christ  said 
to  the  sick  and  the  palsied  and  the  dead : 
'Arise!  walk!'  and  they  arose,  and  walked. 
His  disciples  made  instantaneous  cures.  They 
did  not  go  day  by  day  to  use  magnetism,  hyp- 
notism, or  the  influence  of  mind  over  mind 
and  matter,  upon  patients,  for  weeks,  some- 
times months,  before  proclaiming  a  cure ;  and 
then  have  it  often  result,  at  best,  in  but  a 
partial  one.  They  were  not  so  elusive  in 
their  methods,  either.  They  did  not  profess 
to  do  any  dove tai1  ing  of  seeming  body  and 
perfect  soul  thought.  They  said:  (In  the 
name  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,'  do  ye  thus  and  so. 
Do  you  say  that?" 

"  I  never  argue  against  prejudice,"  protested 
Mrs.  Morris. 

Mr.  Bartlett  smiled  faintly.  The  smile 
stung  and  nettled  his  vis-a-vis.  She  had 
seen  it,  in  spite  of  the  absence  of  her  glasses. 

"One  question  more,  Mrs.  Morris,  if  you 
please." 

"Certainly,  sir!" 

"Well,  then,  what  is  to  become  of  the 
moral  restraints  belonging  to  society  and  the 


1 68  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

world,  if  the  doctrine  of  'no  evil'  is  to  be 
taught?  The  chances  are  that  your  boy  may 
climb  a  tree,  and  not  fall  from  its  branches ; 
but  if  permitted  to  choose  evil  associations, 
under  the  plea  that  there  is  no  evil,  he  can 
not  but  be  corrupted.  What  about  that?  If 
all  is  good,  you  have  no  right  to  restrain  his 
choice  of  different  varieties  of  good." 

Mrs.  Morris  replied  that  "Johnny  naturally 
chose  the  best ;  if  he  did  n't,  she  should  regu- 
late him." 

"May  I  ask  if  your  former  treatment  of 
'Liza  laid  claim  to  as  much  as  that  of  some 
of  your  leaders?  I  refer  to  a  statement  made 
in  the  — teenth  edition  of  a  work  by  one  of 
your  most  prominent  teachers.  I  came  across 
it  accidentally,  in  a  very  hasty  search  for  some 
of  your  kind  of  'truth.'  She  says  she  has 
'often  made  new  lung-tissue.'  Is  that  your 
way  of  curing  lung  disease?" 

"Materially  the  same,"  said  she,  hastily. 

"But" — and  Mr.  Bartlett  straightened  him- 
self in  his  chair,  and  transfixed  her  with  a 
steady  gaze — "don't  you  know  that  such  a 
thing  was  never  done  since  the  world  stood, 
unless  it  might  have  been  by  Christ,  and  if  so, 
we  have  no  record  of  it?" 

"No,  sir,  I  do  not  know  it." 


HIS  COUSfN,  THE  DOCTOR.  169 

"Do  you  know  that  it  has?  If  so,  how  do 
you  know?  How  do  you  know,  when  your 
patients  say  they  are  cured,  that  they  are  so? 
May  not  their  unreliable  senses,  and  yours, 
and  those  of  every  one  who  sees  them  appar- 
ently restored,  be  in  collusion,  proclaiming  a 
gigantic  lie?  You  have  discredited  the  truth 
and  honor  of  the  senses ;  how,  then,  are  you 
going  to  be  governed  by  their  testimony  in  so 
important  a  matter  as  this?" 

Mrs.  Morris  wriggled  on  her  chair  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  gave  up  the  argument  by 
saying: 

"As  we  fail  to  understand  each  other,  per- 
haps this  talk  may  not  be  very  profitable." 

She  then  turned  to  Josiah,  who  had  again 
ventured  inside  the  door,  and  said: 

"I  intended  to  make  no  charges  for  'Liza's 
treatments ;  but  since  you  have  shown  your- 
self so  ungrateful  for  favors  received,  and 
have  taken  her  from  me  to  put  her  into  hands 
that  are  always  ready  for  fees,  I  will  send  in 
my  bill,  which  you  can  pay  when  you  get  able 
to  do  so." 

"  I  did  n't  never  make  no  bargain  with  you 
erbout  'Liza,  marm.  Ef  Polly  did,  Polly 's 
the  one  ter  look  to,"  said  Joe. 

"  It 's  quite  astonishing,"  said  Francis,  med- 
15 


1 70  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOX. 

itatively,  looking  at  the  ceiling,  "  how  much 
stress  'Christian  healers'  lay  on  this  seeming 
money.  It  makes  one  feel  almost  as  if  they 
fancied  that  it  actually  existed,  and  believed 
in  it  as  an  agent  for  the  preservation  of  their 
apparent  bodies  from  obvious  death.  It  re- 
ally— yes,  it  really  is  the  one  bond  of  rela- 
tionship that  makes  all  methods  of  modern 
cure  akin.  If  I  understand  the  matter  prop- 
erly, you  claim  that  the  greater  the  personal 
purity  and  spirituality  possessed  by  a  healer, 
the  more  perfect  and  complete  will  be  the 
cures  effected." 

Mrs.  Morris  glowered  at  him,  and  did  not 
reply. 

"  Now,  I  suppose  it  was  largely  so  with 
Christ's  disciples.  Some  of  them,  at  any  rate, 
were  leaders.  But  I  observe  one  great  differ- 
ence between  your  method  and  theirs,  which 
you  may  not  have  thought  about.  When 
money  was  offered  to  Peter  by  the  sorcerer  for 
the  purchase  of  the  laying  on  of  hands,  he 
replied :  '  Thy  money  perish  with  thee,  be- 
cause thou  hast  thought  that  the  gift  of  God 
may  be  purchased  with  money.'  Yet  you 
Christian  Scientists  sell  this  'pervasive  har- 
mony,' which  is  a  direct  attribute  of  the  All- 
good,  as  if  it  came  by  the  pound,  and  stood 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  171 

labeled,  in  a  glass  jar,  on  the  shelf  of  a  drug- 
store." 

"  But  we  must  live!"  burst  forth  Mrs.  Mor- 
ris reluctantly,  in  self-defense. 

"Certainly,  certainly.  I  appreciate  the 
difficulty — because  you  can  not  die !" 

L/uckily  for  Mrs.  Morris,  at  that  moment 
Mr.  Grim  and  the  restive  roan  dashed  up  to 
the  door,  and  he  called  out: 

"Hurr'  up,  Mis's  Morris;  hurr'  up!  This 
horse  won't  stand!" 

She  did  not  pause  for  lengthened  adieus, 
but  bustled  out  and  climbed  into  the  wagon, 
thankful  that  Mr.  Grim,  like  a  good  fairy, 
had  arrived  to  spirit  her  away  from  her  mer- 
ciless tormenter. 


JARAH  SPENCER,  it  is  not  too  much  to 

say,  was  troubled  to  the  very  depths  of 
her  soul.  Surely,  when  she  had  drifted 
into  the  study  of  "Christian  Science," 
and  later  into  its  promulgation  as  a  teacher 
and  the  practice  of  it  as  a  "healer,"  she  had 
done  so  with  eyes  "  holden,"  that  she  should 
not  see  whither  it  led,  nor  yet  the  responsi- 
bilities to  which  it  committed  her. 

Troubled  she  indeed  had  been,  to  an  un- 
comfortable degree,  after  hearing  Francis's 
first  exegetical  discourse  upon  the  subject. 
Out  of  that  trouble,  in  fact,  had  first  arisen, 
as  a  remorseful  apparition,  her  philanthropic 
designs  concerning  'Liza,  toward,  whom  she 
accused  herself  of  hard-heartedness  in  refus- 
ing cold  water.  Out  of  it,  also,  had  sprung 
a  resolution  to  abandon  her  "  practice  "  until 
she  could  thoroughly  review  her  books  of 
mysticism,  and  compare  them  with  the  Bible 
doctrines ;  and  a  determination  never  to  take 
it  up  again  if  she  found  them  so  much  at  va- 
riance as  he  had  declared.  Then,  too,  she  re- 
172 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  173 

solved,  until  such  time,  not  to  oppose  the  use 
of  remedies  in  'Liza's  case  or  any  other. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  like  that  with  which 
the  penitent  of  the  cloistered  cell  presses  the 
hair  shirt  to  the  sensitive  flesh  which  it  galls, 
that  she  had  poured  out  those  easing  drops 
for  the  child.  Not  that  she  had  ever  before 
had  a  prejudice  against  medicines.  It  was 
only  that  enthusiasms  are  so  contagious ;  and 
her  strong  love  of  the  ideal  in  poetry  and  im- 
agination needed  not  much  fostering  to  de- 
velop a  corresponding  ideal  in  philosophy. 

This  idea  of  a  pervasive  Presence,  so  pure 
and  permeating  that  it  invested  all  things 
with  its  purity,  and  made  the  existence  of  evil 
impossible,  had  been  beautiful  to  her  at  first 
sight.  She  had  not  thought  of  it,  however, 
connected  with  the  loss  of  individuality.  She 
had  not  followed  out  this  line  of  faith  and 
reasoning  to  its  legitimate  conclusion — in  the 
renunciation  of  Christ,  in  the  "preaching  of 
another  gospel,"  and  the  many  other  points 
which  Francis,  in  his  speech,  like  the  turning 
of  a  kaleidoscope,  had  presented,  in  different 
combinations,  to  her  startled  gaze.  Was  this 
faith,  indeed,  built  on  nebulous  foundations? 

She  sat  down,  seriously,  and  asked  herself 
what  was  the  basis  of  her  claim  as  a  "healer." 


174  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

Could  she  give  any  "  lucid,  substantial "  ac- 
count of  the  process  by  which  even  the  little 
that  she  had  accomplished,  or  thought  she  had 
accomplished,  was  done?  Had  she  indeed  any 
divine  "  illumination  ?"  Was  she  "  wise  in 
the  things  of  God?"  Was  it  not,  as  Francis 
had  said,  all  the  exercise  of  the  influence  of 
the  mind  over  mind  and  matter?  Were  people 
generally  so  truthful  in  their  assertions,  that 
statements  of  these  miraculous  cures  without 
remedies  could  be  implicitly  relied  upon? 
Was  it  not  possible  that  many  patients,  liking 
the  iclat  of  such  a  cure  as  a  metaphysical  or 
Christian  Science  one,  yet  feeling  the  need  of 
positive  curative  treatment,  might  have  se- 
cretly taken  such,  and  acted  and  spoken  an 
untruth  ?  Were  not  the  mental  healers  harsh, 
unreasonable,  and  often  false,  likewise,  toward 
physicians  who  had  been  trained  to  lessen  the 
sufferings  of  their  fellow-men  by  harmless  and 
useful  means,  which  God  himself  had  placed 
at  their  disposal?  False  because,  while  mak- 
ing claims  to  a  superior  source  of  knowledge, 
they,  by  their  own  confessions,  were  compelled 
to  stop  short  of  what  medical  practitioners 
could  and  did  do?  If  the  "illumination"  of 
the  Christian  Scientist  was  from  God,  why 
should  it  be  more  difficult  for  him  to  illutni- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  175 

nate  sufficiently  for  the  setting  of  a  bone  than 
the  curing  of  a  headache?  Why  did  they 
show  such  contempt  for  services  greater  than 
they  themselves  were,  by  their  own  showing, 
able  to  render  to  humanity? 

After  long  study  of  these  questions,  she 
would  put  them  away,  only  to  have  them  re- 
turn again  with  tenfold  persistency.  They 
buzzed  through  her  mind  continually. 

To  be  rid  of  them,  she  set  herself  reso- 
lutely to  the  finishing  of  her  lecture,  prom- 
ised for  the  next  public  monthly  meeting  of 
the  Christian  Science  Club,  at  the  G.  A.  R. 
Hall. 

By  way  of  quieting  her  conscience,  she 
said  to  herself  that  the  two  things  had  no 
connection ;  that  in  writing  of  the  teachings 
of  Gautama,  she  did  not  necessarily  indorse 
his  doctrines,  although  she  was  compelled  to 
admit  that  there  had  been  times  during  the 
last  few  weeks  when  she,  too,  had  felt  that  to 
cease  to  exist  would  seem  to  be  the  highest 
good.  She  yearned  for  Nirvana.  But,  as  she 
studied  and  wrote,  she  could  not  stifle  the 
uneasy  conviction  that  there  was  a  great 
similarity  between  Christian  Science  and 
the  dogmas  which  this  brilliant  Hindoo 
propagator  of  a  new  religion  taught,  cen- 


176  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

turies    before    Christ,    in    the    provinces    of 
India. 

Then  she  would  throw  down  her  pen,  and 
go  out  and  walk,  declaring  to  herself  that 
she  would  write  on  the  lecture  no  further, 
only  to  return  to  it  once  more,  remembering 
that  she  had  promised,  and  must  fulfill  her 
engagement. 

It  was  not  until  the  afternoon  of  the  even- 
ing when  it  was  to  be  delivered  that  the  con- 
cluding word  was  written  upon  the  last  page. 
Then,  deliberately,  in  her  boldest  chirography, 
she  traced  beneath  it  the  two  words: 
"THE  END." 

A  resolution  had  been  suddenly  adopted, 
and  by  the  way  in  which  the  green  dominated 
the  blue  of  her  eyes,  it  seemed  evident  that  it 
was  made  to  be  kept. 

She  did  not  go  down  to  the  supper-table 
that  night.  She  had  for  days  eaten  but  little, 
and  her  nights  had  been  restless  with  lack  of 
satisfying  slumber. 

We  know  of  one  of  the  factors  which  pro- 
moted this  unhealthy,  unhappy  condition  of 
body  and  mind;  but  there  were  others,  like- 
wise, a  recognition  of  which  she  would  not 
admit  even  to  her  own  consciousness. 

She   often,    surreptitiously,    as   one   would 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  177 

revert  to  some  secret  and  shameful  delight 
which  it  would  be  wrong  to  acknowledge 
openly,  thought  of  that  cold  touch  of  Fran- 
cis's on  her  hand,  on  the  day  when  she  had 
escaped  a  sudden  danger. 

She  had,  she  knew,  been  guilty  of  that 
very  deed  which  he  had  satirically,  and  in 
another  connection,  spoken  of  to  Mrs.  Morris — 
she  had  buried  something  which  was  yet 
alive,  and  had  said  to  herself  that  now  t*- 
was  dead,  and  would  trouble  her  no  more. 

But  it  had  done  what  most  corpses  are 
unaccustomed  to  do — it  had  refused  to  lie 
quiet!  It  had  many  days  been  stirring  under 
the  rubbish  of  philosophy  and  theology  and 
profitless  erudition,  which  had  formed  the 
cairn  of  its  sepulture — the  structure  which 
Youth  always  builds  highest  over  bodies  which 
give  most  unequivocal  signs  of  a  still  linger- 
ing life. 

What  must  Francis  Bartlett  think  of  her 
now — her  arrogant  assumptions,  coupled  with 
her  ignorant  and  blundering  mistakes?  But, 
worst  of  all,  what  would  he  think  of  her  to- 
morrow? To-morrow!  Ah!  it  seemed  to  her 
there  was  nothing,  anywhere,  beyond  to- 
morrow ! 

With  a  deep  sigh,  she  laid  down   the  fin- 


178  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

ished  manuscript,  and  began  the  preparation 
of  her  evening  toilet. 

There  were  sepia-tinted  shadows  under 
her  eyes,  and  her  cheeks  had  lost  a  little  of 
their  roundness. 

She  did  not  like  the  picture  presented  to 
her  view,  and  hastened  her  dressing,  to  be  rid 
of  confronting  it  in  the  mirror. 

Her  black  lace  dress,  though  rich  in  tex- 
ture, was  plain  enough  in  effect ;  and  she 
hesitated  a  little  when  Nora  came  up,  bring- 
ing her  a  cluster  of  white  roses  "from  Mr. 
Francis,"  about  fastening  them  in  her  cor- 
sage. But,  then,  what  did  it  matter? 

Mrs.  Littlefield,  the  chairman  of  the  meet- 
ing, called,  in  her  carriage,  to  convey  the 
lecturer  to  the  hall.  The  cracked  bell  of  the 
town-clock  had  sounded  the  last  stroke  of 
eight,  when  Francis  Bartlett  put  on  his  hat, 
and  followed  in  the  same  direction. 

Towns,  not  yet  grown  to  be  cities,  do  in- 
deed turn  out  surprising  audiences  to  any- 
thing in  the  line  of  home  talent.  The  hall, 
as  on  the  evening  of  his  return,  was  filled  to 
overflowing ;  and  again  he  took  up  his  posi- 
tion in  an  open  doorway.  On  this  occasion 
the  door  was  not  the  one  at  the  extreme  end 
of  the  hall,  but  opened  from  a  corridor  at  the 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  179 

side,  not  far  from  the  platform.  There  were 
three  of  these  doors,  at  equal  distances  from 
each  other,  along  the  side  of  the  long,  some- 
what narrow  apartment,  and  all  of  them  were 
filled. 

Mr.  Bartlett  did  not,  as  he  looked  about 
and  saw  the  concourse  of  eyes  which  filled 
the  place,  like  to  think  that  all  of  them  were 
to  be  leveled  at  Sadie. 

Mrs.  Littlefield  and  Miss  Spencer  entered 
by  a  noiselessly  swinging  green  door  back  of 
the  platform,  and  sat  down  in  two  upholstered 
chairs.  Sadie's  was  behind  the  reading-desk, 
on  which  was  a  glass  of  water  and  a  bouquet 
of  flowers.  On  a  small  table  to  the  right,  in 
front  of  Mrs.  Littlefield,  was  the  program  for 
the  evening,  and  a  gavel,  which  the  chairman, 
after  a  moment's  consultation  with  the  lec- 
turer, took  up,  and,  by  means  of  rapping  with 
it,  called  the  meeting  to  order. 

Mr.  Charles  Kridlinger,  it  was  announced, 
would  open  the  exercises  with  Scripture  read- 
ing. Mr.  Kridlinger  was  slender  and  pale, 
and  wore  eye-glasses.  He  selected  a  chapter 
containing  the  blindest  and  most  unintelli- 
gible prophecies  to  be  found  between  the  two 
covers  of  the  book,  and  read  it  in  an  emphatic 
and  impressive  way — as  one  who  should  say, 


l8o  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"  Behold,  now  !     To  us  have  the  mysteries  of 
the  ages  been  made  plain." 

*  Then  Miss  Flora  Hollister,  in  a  becoming 
maize-colored  gown,  the  waist  of  which  had 
"blossomed  in  purple  and  red,"  went  to  the 
piano,  on  the  back  of  which  was  the  placard, 
"  Kindly  lent  for  this  occasion  by  the  firm  of 
Hartstone  &  Wagner,"  and  accompanied  her 
voice  thereon  while  she  sang  a  beautiful  and 
well-received  song  about  the  "  Pure  White 
Lily  of  the  Soul." 

Mrs.  Littlefield,  upon  its  conclusion,  im- 
mediately introduced  the  lecturer,  as  the  next 
issue  of  the  Weekly  Item  stated,  "  in  a  few 
well-chosen  words." 

Francis  scarcely  knew  what  it  was  he  had 
been  expecting;  but  he  knew  that  he  was  fright-, 
fully  disappointed  when  Sadie  arose,  and,  lay- 
ing her  manuscript  on   the  desk,  proceeded, 
easily  and  gracefully  with  its  delivery. 

The  subject-matter  was,  necessarily,  a  com- 
pilation, noticeably  lacking  in  those  touches 
of  original  thought  which  had  displayed,  to 
some  extent,  her  range  of  ideas  in  the  former 
one.  But  the  language  was  her  own,  and  the 
matter  itself  new  to  the  greater  number  of 
her  hearers,  who  seemed  pleased,  were  atten- 
tive, and  could  not  withhold  a  tribute  of  per- 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  l8l 

sonal  admiration  to  this  tall,  pale,  beautiful 
young  woman,  so  tastefully  and  unostenta- 
tiously clad,  even  to  the  knot  of  colorless 
flowers  on  her  bosom.  They  all  knew  her — • 
at  least  by  sight  and  hearsay.  ^They  were 
aware  of  the  fact  of  her  fortune  and  easy  cir- 
cumstances of  life,  and  many  of  them  consid- 
ered it  something  brave  and  noble  in  her, 
thus  situated,  to  take  so  decided  a  stand  in 
religious  matters,  and,  above  all,  visit  and 
"treat"  the  sick  poor  without  money  and 
without  price.  It  was  a  very  well-disposed 
audience,  that  gave  respectful  hearing  to  her 
words. 

When  she  had  turned  the  last  page,  and 
finished  her  paper  with  a  well-rounded,  high- 
sounding  period,  she  was  uproariously  ap- 
plauded, although  nothing  in  the  subject 
seemed  to  call  for  such  a  demonstration. 
The  audience  was  applauding  her  youth, 
beauty,  and  intelligence,  and  toadying,  as  it 
is  the  wont  of  human  nature  to  do,  to  the 
reputation  of  wealth  in  which  it  has  neither 
hope  nor  prospect  of  sharing. 

In  spite  of  his  disapproval  of  the  occasion 
of  it  all,  Francis's  heart  went  out  in  amicable 
forgiveness  to  those  people,  who,  after  having 
ogled  Sadie,  atoned  for  it  by  their  applause. 


1 82  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

Mrs.  Littlefield  was  getting  ready  to  make 
some  announcements,  and  a  young  girl  in 
•white  was  stationed  at  the  piano  for  the  ren- 
dering of  the  accompaniment  to  the  doxol- 
ogy;  but,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  the  lecturer 
had  not  yet  returned  to  her  seat.  The  chair- 
man looked  at  her  inquiringly.  A  profound 
silence  settled  over  the  house,  and  every  eye 
was  upon  her.  She  advanced  from  behind 
the  stand,  which  was  a  little  to  one  side  of 
the  center  of  the  platform,  and  walked  down 
to  the  very  front  of  it. 

"  My  friends,"  said  she,  "  I  thank  you  for 
your  kind  and  interested  attention  this  even- 
ing, and  will  detain  you  but  a  moment  longer. 
I  have  resolved  to  renounce  Christian  Science 
here  and  now,  and  all  doctrines  in  any  way 
appertaining  to  it,  as  I  have  become  con- 
vinced that  one  and  all  of  them  are  in  direct 
conflict  with  the  teachings  of  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures and  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  do 
this  at  this  time  because  I  feel  it  incumbent 
upon  me  to  make  the  renunciation  in  as  pub- 
lic and  unequivocal  a  manner  as  I  have  be- 
fore now  advocated,  taught,  and  professed  to 
practice  the  same." 

In  a  dead  silence,  still  unbroken,  she 
turned  and  walked,  erect  and  stately,  out  at 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  183 

the  swinging  green  door  into  the  anteroom 
beyond. 

Not  all,  nor  indeed  any  but  the  lesser  part 
of  the  audience,  were  of  the  Christian  Science 
belief;  and,  at  best,  a  public  assembly  is 
fickle  in  its  approval  of  sentiments  and 
opinions.  There  were  also  many  orthodox 
believers  in  the  hall ;  and  as  Sarah  Spencer 
sank  into  a  seat  on  the  other  side  of  that 
green  door,  cheer  after  cheer  went  up  from 
the  people  whose  presence  she  had  just  left. 

She  lifted  her  head  and  listened,  a 
bright,  restless  color  coming  and  going  on 
her  cheeks.  She  heard  the  canzonet  of  cheers 
followed  by  a  storm  of  hisses. 

The  Scientists  had  rallied  from  their  mo- 
mentary stupefaction,  and  this  was  their 
verdict. 


XIV. 

.S    Sadie    passed    out    by   the   swinging 
door,  Francis  Bartlett,  whose  heart  was 
beating  like  a  trip-hammer,  turned,  and 

^  made  his  way  through  a  group  that  had 
crowded  up  uncomfortably  close  behind  him, 
to  witness  the  astounding  denouement  which 
had  just  occurred.  He  had  only  a  few  feet  to 
walk  to  reach  a  door  leading  into  the  anteroom 
which  Sadie  had  entered. 

There  was  but  a  ghostly  glimmer  of  light 
in  the  room  from  the  gas-jet,  turned  down  to 
a  small  blue  bead  ;  but  there  was  light  enough 
for  him  to  see  her,  as  she  sat  with  her  face 
fallen  in  her  hands,  just  as  it  had  been  borne 
downward  by  that  hurricane  of  hisses. 

He  went  up  to  her,  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
her  shoulder. 

She  looked  up,  a  little  wildly  at  first,  then, 
recognizing  him,  she  said,  in  a  broken  voice: 

"O  Frank,  is  it  you?     Take  me  home !" 

"Yes,  yes!     Don't   tremble   so!     No   one 
is  coming.     Don't  you  hear  Kridlinger?     She 
has  set  him  to  exhorting.     There,  there  1     Sit 
still,  while  I  bring  your  wraps !" 
184 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  185 

He  strode  over  to  a  row  of  hooks  upon 
the  side  of  the  wall,  from  one  of  which  hung 
her  long  peasant-cloak,  and  over  it,  swung  by 
its  narrow  ties,  her  little  evening  capote. 

He  came  back  with  them,  and  as  she  arose, 
put  them  on  her — awkwardly,  as  men  do 
those  things — looking  a  little  doubtfully  for 
the  arm-holes  in. the  thin  shirred  wrap,  and 
getting  the  bonnet  a  trifle  awry  at  first,  but 
settling  it  into  proper  place  with  a  firm  yet 
gentle  touch. 

"Come,  now!"  said  he,  drawing  her  hand 
under  his  arm,  and  starting  toward  the  door. 

She  shrank  back,  timidly. 

"O  Frank!  How  can  I?  I  can  not  pass 
those  dreadful  people  in  the  hall!" 

"No,  no!  You  will  not  have  to  pass  them. 
We  will  go  down  the  other  stairway." 

Then  he  led  her  out,  and  almost  carried 
her  down  the  stairs,  so  weak  and  tremulous 
had  she  become  when  the  stress  of  excitement 
and  determination  which  had  borne  her  so 
successfully  through  the  ordeal  of  her  public 
renunciation  was  over. 

He  looked  up  at  the  lighted  windows  of 
the  hall,  as  they  hurried  along  the  sidewalk 
beneath  them,  and  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief 

and  satisfaction. 

16 


1 86  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

Surely,  surely,  there  was  something  fine 
and  noble  and  worthy  in  a  nature  great  enough 
to  rise  so  heroically  to  the  courage  of  its  con- 
victions! 

At  the  last  she  would  not  disappoint  his 
hopes  for  her,  however  might  result  his  hopes 
for  himself.  For,  to  this  young  man,  who 
had  been  bent  so  determinedly  upon  self-sac- 
rifice, the  intrinsic  value  of  the  woman  her- 
self had  at  length  outweighed  the  lesser  worth 
of  her  possessions. 

When  they  reached  home,  he  took  her  up 
to  her  own  door,  and  stood  outside  to  hear 
the  key  turn  in  the  lock  after  she  had  entered. 
No  one  should  question  or  annoy  her  in  these 
first  hours  of  her  humiliation  and  distress. 
This  was  no  time  for  even  reassurance  or  con- 
solation. His  intuition  told  him  that,  until 
the  storm  of  pent-up  feeling  should  have 
burst  and  spent  its  first  passionate  fury, 
neither  one  nor  the  other  of  these  would 
avail. 

His  mother,  anxious  and  curious,  waylaid 
him  in  the  lower  hall  with  numberless  in- 
quiries. He  felt  like  repelling  them,  one  and 
all,  but  some  answer  he  was  compelled  to 
give;  so  he  told,  in  a  few,  straightforward  words, 
without  comment,  what  had  occurred. 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  187 

This  duty  complied  with,  he  went  out 
under  the  trees,  and  sat  down  on  one  of  the 
little  rustic  benches,  from  which  he  could  see 
Sadie's  window.  The  shutters  had  not  been 
closed,  and  a  black,  open  square,  without  a 
glimmer  of  light,  and  only  the  ghostly  sweep 
of  curtains  behind  it,  confronted  his  gaze. 

He  thought  of  her  there,  lying,  face  down 
perhaps,  across  the  bed,  in  her  lace  gown — or 
it  might  be  on  the  rug  at  its  foot — giving 
vent  to  the  first  desperate  heart-aching,  heart- 
breaking sobs  that  her  shielded  womanhood 
had  known.  And  the  sorrows  of  her  girlhood 
had  long  since  been  soothed  away.  Sadie  in 
trouble — Sadie,  battling  alone  with  something 
magnified  by  her  womanly  fears  into  a  ver- 
itable Abaddon,  was  terrible  to  him!  The 
thought  of  that  lovely  cheek  discolored  with 
tears,  that  fair  hair  disordered  and  pushed 
aside  with  the  abandon  of  grief,  was  insup- 
portable to  him.  And  in  the  realization 
which  came  to  him  then  of  how  little  we  can 
do  to  save  from  sorrow  those  whom  we  love 
the  most,  and  the  cry,  "Help  her,  O  God!" 
which  followed  it,  perhaps  he  breathed  the 
truest  prayer  of  all  his  life  up  to  that  mo- 
ment. 

The  next  day  Sadie  kept  her  room.     No 


1 88  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

answer  came  through  the  closed  door  to 
Francis's  words  of  persuasion  and  entreaty. 
The  damask-covered  tray,  with  its  Royal 
Worcester  service  from  her  own  cabinet,  and 
daintiest  food  from  the  household  cuisine,  stood 
untouched  outside  the  threshold. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  Francis 
went  down  to  his  office,  and  transacted  some 
necessary  business  in  a  mechanical,  perfunc- 
tory way.  No  one  spoke  to  him  of  the  event 
of  the  evening  before.  There  was  something 
forbidding  in  his  mien. 

Just  at  the  dinner  hour  there  was  a  pull  at 
the  bell.  Nora  was  arranging  the  soup-tureen 
upon  the  table  at  the  moment,  and  Mr.  Bart- 
lett,  who  chanced  to  be  in  the  hall,  opened 
the  door.  A  young  man  whom  he  remem- 
bered first  in  pinafores  and  then  knickerbock- 
ers, but  who  now  wore  long  trousers,  and 
sported  a  watch-chain — a  young  man  who 
came  ta  his  office  once  a  month  regularly  on 
a  collecting  tour — went  through  with  the  for- 
.mality  of  handing  him  a  card,  with  the  re- 
quest that  it  be  given  to  Miss  Spencer.  Me- 
chanically, Mr.  Bartlett  glanced  over  it  and 
read : 

"MR.  JAMES  MURRAY  PENN, 

Weekly  Item." 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  189 

Mr.  Bartlett  looked  from  the  card  to  trie 
young  man,  and  said  : 

"  Sorry,  Jim,  but  she  can't  see  you.  You 
will  have  to  excuse  her." 

"  Certainly.  Very  sorry.  Hope  she  is 
quite  well.  Is  there  any  one  here  I  can  in- 
terview in  her  stead?" 

Mr.  Bartlett  considered  a  moment,  then  re- 
plied : 

"  Yes,  you  can  interview  me." 

The  young  man  blushed  rosy  red.  Repor- 
torial  duties  had  but  lately  been  added  to  his 
honors  in  the  line  of  collector,  typo,  and  devil, 
and  as  yet  failed  to  sit  easily  upon  him.  For 
one  thing,  however,  he  was  thankful ;  that 
was  that  he  was  to  do  the  interviewing  instead 
of  his  vis-a-vis,  planted  before  him  as  firmly 
as — as — the  Colossus  at  Rhode's,  he  thought, 
recalling  one  of  the  editor's  last  able  edito- 
rials. Somehow,  when  Bartlett  interviewed  a 
fellow  he  made  him  "  give  it  up,"  whether  he 
wanted  to  or  not,  and  the  results  of  interviews 
with  him  were  so  likely  to  land  parties  in  the 
lock-up,  and  give  them  free  trips  to  the  pen- 
itentiary. 

Nevertheless,  the  interview  was  brief.  Mr. 
Murray  was  not  encouraged  to  become  discur- 
sive and  give  it  latitude.  With  much  stam- 


190  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

mering  and  hesitancy,  he  inquired  into  the 
facts  concerning  the  position  taken  by  Miss 
Spencer  the  evening  before,  at  the  public 
meeting,  on  Christian  Science.  Mr.  Bartlett 
gave  clear,  crisp,  unelaborated  replies,  that 
were  transferred  in  that  Horace  Greeley  form 
of  short-hand  which  is  popular  with  reporters 
to  the  penny-pad  taken  from  his  pocket. 

That  the  Item  would  not  appear  for  several 
days  subsequent,  and  all  this  haste  and  illeg- 
ibility was  therefore  unnecessary,  did  not  at 
all  impair  Mr.  Murray's  enjoyment  of  the  same. 
His  mission  being  fulfilled,  he  tipped  his  hat 
and  went  away.  Francis  Bartlett  closed  the 
door  upon  his  retreat  with  a  sigh.  "  Poor 
Sadie  !"  said  he  to  himself. 

Dinner  was  scarcely  over,  when  an  elder 
from  one  of  the  Churches,  accompanied  by 
one  of  his  daughters,  arrived,  to  congratulate 
Miss  Spencer  upon  the  step  she  had  taken, 
and  urge  that  she  now  go  further  and  join  the 
Church.  They  had  just  retired,  somewhat 
disappointed  at  not  having  seen  the  young 
lady,  when  the  deacon  of  another  came,  with 
his  wife,  on  a  duplicate  mission. 

These  were  good  people,  who  meant  well; 
but  in  this  case  their  zeal  was  not  according 
to  knowledge.  With  a  refined  and  sensitive 


HJS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  191 

nature  like  Sadie's,  two  steps  so  important 
yet  dissimilar  as  renouncing  Christian  Sci- 
ence and  uniting  with  the  Church,  could  not 
follow  one  upon  the  other  so  closely.  Identi- 
fying herself  with  Christ's  followers  was  some- 
thing she  was  certain  to  do  in  the  natural 
course  of  events;  but  the  balm  of  time,  which 
heals  the  heart's  open  wound,  and  tears  of  re- 
pentance, which  give  clearer  vision  to  the  eyes 
that  shed  them,  were  first  needful  here.  God's 
hand  was  upon  her,  and  its  tender  touch  was 
the  only  one  that  could  lead  her  now. 

Mr.  Bartlett  did  not  return  to  the  office, 
but  remained  to  assist  his  mother  in  the  im- 
promptu reception  which  followed,  and  see 
that  the  right  things  were  said  and  done.  He 
exerted  himself  to  be  agreeable  and  natural, 
and  pass  off  the  occurrence,  to  which  all  re- 
ferred as  something  they  were  "so  glad" 
about,  as  the  only  thing  that  could  reason- 
ably have  been  expected  of  a  young  woman 
so  intelligent  as  his  cousin. 

After  a  time  all  of  them  went  away,  by 
ones  and  twos  and  threes.  The  hall  table 
was  covered  with  cards  and  bouquets,  to  be 
presented  with  the  compliments  of  one  and 
another.  Francis  heaved  another  sigh  as  the 
door  closed  after  the  last  one  of  them. 


192  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"This  is  a  horrible  world,"  said  he.  "No- 
toody  has  a  right  to  himself  or  his  own  life  in 
it  Sadie  never  would  have  done  it — she 
never  could — if  she  .had  known  what  a  noise 
it  was  going  to  make." 

"  Everything  makes  a  noise,"  said  his 
mother,  shrugging  her  shoulders.  "The 
world's  so  hollow,  you  see.  It's  like  talk- 
ing into  an  empty  barrel." 

"  You  're  right,  mother  ;  and  it 's  a  blessed 
acoustic  arrangement  that  gives  us  the  sound 
as  an  accessory  after  the  fact  instead  of  before 
it.  If  the  noise  heralded  it,  nobody  would 
ever  do  anything  brave  or  independent." 

Yes,  it  had  been  a  weary  day.  He  ac- 
knowledged this  as  he  sat  in  the  shadow  of 
the  trees  once  more,  and  looked  for  a  glim- 
mer of  light  in  Sadie's  window.  Day's  su- 
perb painting  of  Titian  tints  had  been  with- 
drawn with  the  sun,  but  night's  exquisite 
etching  filled  its  place  on  nature's  walls. 
Each  tree  and  shrub  and  blossom,  and  every 
swaying  branch,  was  silhouetted  by  the  moon, 
whose  light  transformed  them  from  the  fixed 
and  limited  environments  of  common  daylight 
objects  into  subtle  possibilities — half-seen, 
half-guessed  at  things,  from  which  imagina- 
tion conjures  what  it  will. 


U IS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  193 

Day  rends  the  veil  that  hides  old  Earth's 
most  holy  secrets  from  the  vulgar  gaze,  which, 
seeing,  does  not  comprehend ;  but  night  re- 
stores it,  woven  from  her  shadows  and  her 
dews ;  and  only  reverent  souls  can  lift  its 
mystic  sweep  to  see  the  shine  of  cherubic 
wings,  and  talk  with  God  in  silence. 

Nothing  was  wanting  to  perfect  the  hour 
but  Sadie's  presence  and  her  love ;  and,  even 
as  he  thought  it,  she  came  stealing  dejectedly 
through  the  shadows,  all  in  white,  as  she  used 
to  be  in  the  old  times,  and  sat  down  silently 
beside  him.  He  saw  that  her  gown  was  the 
most  careless  of  house  dresses,  and  her  yellow 
hair  was  all  disordered  under  the  white,  fleecy 
shawl,  with  its  fringe,  like  valley  lilies,  thrown 
over  her  head.  He  did  not  speak,  but  put  his 
hand  out  and  took  hers  in  a  close  clasp,  from 
which  she  drew  it  suddenly  to  wipe  away  her 
tears. 

"Poor  girl!"  said  he.  "Poor  little  Sadie!" 
And  this  tall,  goddess-like  creature  listened  to 
and  did  not  repudiate  the  designation. 

"You  mustn't  cry,  dear,"  said  he,  softly. 

At  which  she  cried  the  more. 

"  I — I  am  so  terribly  disgraced,"  said  she. 

"Nonsense,  child!     Nothing   of  the   sort! 
You  have  done  a  brave  thing — you —  " 
17 


194  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

"But  I  was  a  fool  first;  you  know  I  was, 
Frank!" 

This  was  the  third  time  she  had  called  him 
"Frank" — the  old,  familiar  name — since  he 
came  home. 

"I  ought  to  have  known  better — I  ought 
to  have  seen  what  I  was  doing,  before  I  com- 
mitted such  ignorant,  inexcusable  blunders. 
A  child,  who  had  gone  to  Sunday-school, 
would  have  shown  more  sense  than  I.  I 
wanted  to  be  learned,  and  I  have  been  an 
ignoramus;  I  wanted  to  do  good,  and  have 
brought  myself  only  harm.  Nobody  will  ever 
have  any  respect  for  my  opinions  again !  O,  * 
if  people  could  only  go  back,  and  live  the 
_,past  over  again,  how  differently  they  would 
do!  But,  whether  it  stands  for  the  best  or 
the  worst  that  is  in  us,  it  stands  forever. 
Whether  it  stands  for  what  we  are,  or  the 
cast-off  chrysalis  of  what  we  were,  it  is  eter- 
nal. I  have  never  represented  the  best  that 
is  in  me,  and  now  I  never  shall.  One's  past 
will  not  stay  behind;  but  it  gets  in  front  of 
one,  like  the  angel  with  the  sword,  and  for- 
bids the  going  forward.  I  wish  there  was  no 
evil — O,  how  I  wish  it!  Why  were  we  not 
made  incapable  of  mistakes  and  sins?" 

"All  of  us  have  frequent  occasion  to  cry 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOK.  195 

'Peccavl!'  but  let  us  not  weary  God's  ear 
with  the  continuous  cry.  It  is  better,  with 
Paul,  to  do  heroic  *  forgetting '  of  '  those  things 
that  are  behind.'  When  I  was  in  a  Western 
city  at  one  time,  stopping  at  a  hotel,  I  heard 
a  terrible  racket  one  night  in  the  room  next 
to  mine,  as  if  some  one  was  receiving  a  se- 
vere beating.  I  paid  but  little  attention  to 
it  on  the  first  occasion,  but  after  hearing  it 
again  and  again,  I  asked  the  landlord  what 
it  meant.  He  said  the  occupant  of  the  room 
was  a  young  Japanese  from  Tokio,  attending 
the  convention  of  civil  engineers  then  being 
held  in  the  city,  and  that  every  night,  before 
retiring,  he  whipped  the  white  devils  out  of 
his  clothes. 

"  We  are  often  called  upon  to  scourge  white 
devils  of  errors  out  of  our  theories  and  line 
of  conduct;  but  I  don't  believe  it  is  espe- 
cially gratifying  to  our  Maker  to  have  us  keep 
up  the  whipping  upon  ourselves  forever. 
The  very  fact  that  we  may  feel  inclined  to 
do  it,  is  what  might  be  called  prima  facie  evi- 
dence that  it  is  no  longer  necessary." 

"  But  I  can  not  pardon  myself  for  the 
lightness  with  which  I  rushed  into  such  a 
false  position." 

"  My  best  hopes  for  you  lie  in  the  recogni- 


IQ6  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

tion  of  that  very  lightness.  Had  you  stopped 
to  weigh  the  matter,  and  seriously  examine  its 
claims  to  your  espousal  and  championship, 
and  then  ridden  your  tilt  in  its  favor,  yours 
would  have  been  a  hopeless  case.  I  recollect, 
when  I  was  a  youngster,  of  having  a  terrible 
attack  of  toothache ;  and  mother,  as  if  she 
was  offering  me  a  sweetmeat,  told  me  I  might 
go  and  get  the  tooth  pulled.  I  remember 
how  I  went  singing  along  the  street  (suppos- 
ing myself  the  envy  of  other  boys),  '  I  'm 
going  down  to  Dr.  Brown's  to  get  a  tooth 
pulled.'  Some  of  the  boys  gave  me  rather 
knowing  grins.  One  of  them,  I  remember, 
exclaimed,  'Jimmy  Crickets !'  I  did  n't  un- 
derstand what  they  meant,  though,  until  after 
I  'd  felt  the  forceps.  There  are  some  things 
we  should  never  undertake  at  all  if  we  did  n't 
do  it  lightly." 

"  Do  n't  you  feel  ashamed  of  me,  then  ?" 
asked  she  in  a  sort  of  plaintive  wonder,  with 
a  surprised  and  wistful  expression  on  the  face, 
set  in  the  picturesque  environment  of  the 
white  shawl. 

"Yes,  terribly,"  responded  this  hypocrite. 
"  There  is  only  one  thing  for  you  to  do  now." 

She  looked  up  questioningly. 

"Change   your   name,"   said   he,    catching 


HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR.  197 

her  hand  just  in  time  to  intercept  a  threat- 
ened flight.  "  You  must  always  have  known 
that  I  love  you,  Sadie.  No  one  in  all  the 
world,  to  my  mind,  is  like  you.  This  worry 
and  trouble  is  very  ephemeral,  and  will  soon 
pass  away.  Society  is  always  in  a  state  of 
transition,  from  one  fine  frenzy  of  foolishness 
to  another.  If  it  should  sometime  see  a  pan- 
oramic review  of  all  its  former  follies  and  con- 
ceits passing  before  it,  I  wonder  if,  like  Judas, 
it  would  not  feel  like  going  out  and  hanging 
itself?  You  are  going  to  rise  up  from  this  to 
a  nobler  and  grander  womanhood.  Shall  it 
not  be  to  bless  my  life  as  its  helper  and 
companion?" 

She  trembled  with  excitement  and  un- 
speakable joy,  but  she  only  said: 

"  I  do  want  to  live  on  a  higher  level — I  do 
indeed,  Frank!" 

"  We  will  go  away  to  Europe,  and  when 
you  come  back  with  dresses  from  Worth's 
and  Felix's — " 

She  laughed  gleefully. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  Felix  ?  And 
the  idea  of  setting  up  such  standards  for  me ! 
I  care  more  now  to  make  sure  of  the  fine 
linen  which  is  the  righteousness  of  the 
saints." 


198  HIS  COUSIN,  THE  DOCTOR. 

She  said  this  last  with  a  sweet,  shy,  hes- 
itating seriousness  that  touched  his  heart. 

"Well,  then,  joking  aside,  we  will  settle 
up  our  affairs,  and  go  away  from  here  and 
begin  anew  in  a  wider  field.  I  want  a  city 
for  my  practice,  you  for  social  life  and 
better  opportunities  of  culture;  and  if  you 
want  real  mission-work,  you  will  find  it  ready 
to  your  hand.  I  have  thought  of  a  change 
like  this  for  myself.  It  is  no  sudden  resolu- 
tion. Will  you  go  with  me,  darling?  Will 
you  go  with  me?" 

She  moved  a  little  nearer  to  him  in  the 
shadows.  The  white  shawl  fell  away  from 
the  face  whose  outlines  it  had  half  concealed, 
and  disclosed  its  changed  and  transfiguring 
expression  of  happiness.  Seeing  this,  Francis 
stole  an  intrepid  arm  about  her  neck,  and 
heaved  a  sigh  of  perfect  content  as  he  laid  his 
trembling  hand  upon  her  cheek. 


TUB   END. 


A    000038668     0 


